One more reason to come out of the closet

Things have been pretty crazy around here, but instead of letting more dust gather on my blog, I figured I would take this opportunity to direct your attention to another of Dale McGowan's great blog entries.

I have several friends who are non-believers, but who are still living "in the closet". I don't fault them for it...I did the same thing for a lot of years. It isn't easy to come out as an atheist...or as any non-Christian for that matter...in this country. Many Christians may not realize it, but there are repercussions (sometimes serious ones) for anyone who admits they aren't a Christian.

It's easier in some areas and harder in others, but I know that where I grew up, the term "Christian" was used synonymously with "good person." And to say someone was an atheist was on par with saying they were against all things good. Even now, the only atheists most people see are the most outspoken (people like Richard Dawkins and Christopher Hitchens), who they think are intellectual snobs. It's one reason why I have such a hard time identifying with the label of "atheist." The point of this blog entry is that, unless people are willing to come out of that proverbial closet, nothing is going to change.

If you are a not a person of faith, the best thing you can do is to be open and honest about your world view...while at the same time continuing to just be NORMAL. As people realize how many friends, family, and neighbors are atheists (or secular humanists, agnostics, freethinkers, brights, or whatever you choose to call yourself), the less stigma will be attached to our world view.

Check out what Dale has to say about it...and let me know what YOU think!

An Outbreak of Normal

"Sick and tired of god-stuff" shared blog post

Sorry if I come across as the "angry atheist" today. Ninety-nine percent of the time, I happily coexist with people of various religious backgrounds. Sometimes we even learn something from one another, and I really enjoy it. Many of my Christian friends give me the same respect that I give them...we are not trying to "convert" each other to another way of thinking, and we focus on our commonalities instead of nitpicking at our differences.

At other times, I find myself dumbfounded by lack of respect (often the other person doesn't even REALIZE they are being disrespectful or coming across as extremely judgmental). Earlier this week, I was given the oft-touted sanctimonious proclamation of "I'll be praying for you" that I've received from many PoF's...simply because I don't believe the same things they do. It's implied that my belief system is a reviled illness that needs to be cured or "prayed away."

In light of my frustration and the fact that I am currently fed-up with the double standard, I read a blog post that resonated with me today...and I thought I'd share. The take-home message is this:

So yes, I am sick and tired of god stuff. Sick and tired of god-stuff always being thrust into the middle of everything. I don’t care if you believe in one or twenty gods, I’ll even drive you to your church if you need a ride. I’ll fight for your right to attend the church of your choice. But I expect you to give me the same respect as a person that you demand from me, and which I willingly give you. That is all I expect. Is that really too much to ask?

Check it out:

Sick and tired of god-stuff

The values we all stand for

This was the winner of the 2010 Project Reason Video Contest. Its message resonates with me, and I think it's good food for thought for anyone who thinks church/state separation is unimportant. It's definitely worth viewing, if you haven't seen it already (as are the runners-up).

Supporting church/state separation isn't about hating religious groups or trying to tell people they are wrong...it is about inclusivity. It is about standing UNIFIED as a nation, focusing on what we have in common, rather than what divides us. It is also about recognizing the fact that we, as secular Americans, are contributing members of society, worthy of just as much respect as every other citizen. I am not asking to be given special treatment...just EQUAL consideration and RESPECT.

Is it Our Patriotic Duty to Pray Today?

You'd probably have to be living under a rock if you aren't aware that today is the United States' National Day of Prayer. And you've probably been wearing earplugs and blinders if you haven't noticed someone complaining about the way it's being held (or that it's being held at all). There are just a couple things I wanted to point out today...

First, President Obama is taking flak from all sides on this. The secular folks are annoyed with Obama for signing the proclamation making this the official NDoP, in spite of the April 15th ruling by a federal judge that the NDoP is unconstitutional. The supporters of the National Day of Prayer are up in arms because while he signed the proclamation, he didn't hold a NDoP service in the White House. Additionally, Obama changed the wording of the proclamation to include (*gasp!*) secular people as well as those who are religious:

I call upon the citizens of our Nation to pray, or otherwise give thanks, in accordance with their own faiths and consciences, for our many freedoms and blessings, and I invite all people of faith to join me in asking for God's continued guidance, grace, and protection as we meet the challenges before us. [emphasis mine]

Was Judge Crabb correct in her ruling? I think so. I'm no Constitutional lawyer, but her reasoning seems sound to me. Only time (and the appeals process) will tell how this will all pan out. Was Obama's decision to sign the proclamation and hold a NDoP anyway a good one? I don't know. It seems like he's trying to give a little on each side, trying to please everyone...and he's wound up pleasing almost noone.

The second noteworthy point is in regard to the way in which the most outspoken advocates of the NDoP ignore the fact that church/state separation isn't just to benefit secular Americans. It never ceases to amaze me how many people don't realize that the same amendment that mandates separation of church and state also protects THEIR rights to worship in whatever way they choose. Many Christians seem to think it's just a reflection of modern society trying to "remove God from all aspects of public life." They don't realize how important that clause is in protecting the religious freedoms THEY find so important.

[blogger's edit: A Facebook friend of mine disagreed with Obama's decision to NOT host a ceremony in honor of the NDoP. She referred to people's "church/state separation" argument as being unimportant (or "blah blah blah") compared to the long-standing tradition of the event. I removed her direct quote at her request, as she felt she was being mocked. That was not my intention.]

It's no secret that I'm a supporter of the separation of church and state (you know, that "blah blah blah" my friend was referring to)...as our founding fathers were...and as any thinking person *should* be. The reality is that if the first amendment separation is not upheld, there is nothing stopping the establishment of ANY religion in this country. In the not too distant future, if current religious trends continue, Christianity will no longer be the religion of the vast majority that it is today. In that new "minority" environment, will Christians be so willing to allow another religious doctrine to become the government-sanctioned one?

The ruling Judge Crabb made not only prevents the United States government from sanctioning a National Day of Prayer, it also prevents it from sanctioning something like a National Day of Blasphemy, or a National Day of No Prayer. This excerpt from her ruling says it all:

...No one can doubt the important role that prayer plays in the spiritual life of a believer. ...However, recognizing the importance of prayer to many people does not mean that the government may enact a statute in support of it, any more than the government may encourage citizens to fast during the month of Ramadan, attend a synagogue, purify themselves in a sweat lodge or practice rune magic. In fact, it is because the nature of prayer is so personal and can have such a powerful effect on a community that the government may not use its authority to try to influence an individual's decision whether and when to pray.

I should also mention something that will probably surprise most of my Christian friends...I absolutely support the right to have a Day of Prayer! If all the Christians in the country want to designate the first Thursday in May as the National Christian Day of Prayer...by all means, organize and DO it! Likewise to any other religious or non-religious group that wants to institute a National Day of...ANYTHING. Just don't expect the government of this country (the government that represents ALL of us, even the 15% who identify ourselves as "not religious") to sanction it. That is the problem that most objectors have with the whole thing...it's not the prayer itself, just that it's expected to be sanctioned by the government.

I believe the most important thing to consider in all of this is the reason for the National Day of Prayer. What is its intended purpose? I imagine it was meant to bring people together to evoke positive change. The reality of the situation is that it has just become another point of contention, and has further divided the population of this country. As Carol Everhart Roper wrote in an article for the Philadelphia Freethought Examiner: "ANY TIME that a ‘national’ event causes our citizens to divide themselves into groups categorized by beliefs, race, etc, one really cannot call it a UNITY event."

Her suggestion was that, instead of a National Day of Prayer, "we celebrate a National Day of Awareness – rather than praying, reach out to someone who is different than you – and find some solidarity and common ground between you. THAT would be a tribute to this great country."

Growing out in the real world (Let's Start...part 3)

Making a start as a new adult is an interesting and exciting time in everyone's life. For me, it began with a rite of passage...my first airplane flight, and my first real venture outside my home state. For all intents and purposes, that first foray into the "real world" was my first exposure to real diversity.

Shortly after my 18th birthday, I packed a suitcase and rode the three airplanes it took to transport me to Charleston, West Virginia. I was a delegate to National Youth Science Camp, a 4-week program for young scientists from around the U.S. It was a transformative experience for me in more ways than I can enumerate here, but for the purposes of this blog, one thing stands out in my mind...my introduction to peers who came from diverse backgrounds: culturally, racially, and economically. It was a far cry from where I'd grown up, where everyone was white (or part-Native American), Christian, conservative, and middle- to lower-middle class. One of my closest friends there was Navajo and still practiced her native religion (the Native Americans where I grew up were all Catholics, so this was new to me). Another girl made mention of the fact that she was raised in an agnostic family, and yet other campers were Jewish, Buddhist, or Hindu. It was refreshing...and for the first time, I felt like I really belonged somewhere. It was a place where there was no cultural standard to try to fit into, because everyone was different...and that was TRULY okay.

When I returned and finished out the summer at home, I was excited to start college; to move to a bigger city and really be out on my own. I was expecting an environment more like what I'd experienced at NYSC, but it turned out a little differently. While the population of the college I attended was slightly more diverse than in my home town (particularly among the faculty), I was still surrounded by mostly white, conservative, middle-class Christians.

A minor detour here, as I make a few comments about North Dakotans (lest I sound like I'm being overly critical of my home state). Generally speaking, people there are mostly good. The population is still small enough that people feel a connection with one another, and are ready and willing to lend a helping hand whenever they can. I remember telling a former coworker in Arizona about North Dakotans, and I gave this example: If you were standing at a cash register in a store and realized you were a couple dollars short for what you were purchasing, the three strangers in line behind you would be digging in their pockets to offer you their spare change and make up the difference. That's just the way people are back there (or at least that's the way the were when I left 14 years ago). North Dakotans are also very tolerant people. They tolerate people who aren't like them...you wouldn't have to worry, for example, if you were a Jewish family moving into a Christian neighborhood to have anti-semitic graffiti spray-painted on the side of your house or something. HOWEVER...they also would probably not embrace you.

While differences are TOLERATED there, they are not truly ACCEPTED. There is a big difference between tolerance and acceptance. If you don't fit into the preconceived notion of what is "normal" there, you are never truly accepted. Since the vast majority of people in the state are conservative and Christian, you have a very narrow cubbyhole in which to cram yourself if you want to be "one of them." While the people of the state have a lot of great qualities, true acceptance of diversity is not one of them (I should probably note that I am generalizing, if it's not already obvious, and that not EVERYONE in the state fits this description...lest I offend someone I know and love who still lives there).

Back to my college experience, with respect to my spiritual growth...there are a few things that stand out in my mind.

My first college boyfriend, R, was a conservative Christian. He once told me that "Rush is God" (i.e. Rush Limbaugh), and had a bumper sticker on his truck that read, "I Am the NRA." I went to church with him a couple of times, and I found it interesting (he was U.C.C., a denomination I had never encountered before...the service wasn't much different from the few United Methodist services I'd been to as a kid/teen). During my sophomore year, when R asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I told him sincerely that I wanted a Bible. I'd never actually read the whole Bible, was interested in doing so, and I didn't have one of my own.

He obliged happily, and gave me a KJV "Life Application" Bible. It was very cool in that it contained tons of maps of the areas discussed, as well as historical timelines of events occurring in other areas of the world while Biblical events were taking place. On the down side (I say this in retrospect), at the bottom of each page is an interpretation of the scripture...telling you what it means, and how a good Christian can apply it to their daily lives. I honestly believe that if you have ONLY read the Bible with someone else's interpretation guiding you (either through Bible study classes or the kind of Bible I was given), you aren't really reading the Bible. You're reading someone else's interpretation and critique of the book. NOT the same. More on that in a later post...

I distinctly remember the day I "came out" to R about my agnosticism. I told him that I wasn't sure I believed any of it. His response to me is crystal-clear in my memory. He smiled the most patronizing smile, drew me close to him and said with a little chuckle, "Oh, honey, you BELIEVE! You just don't KNOW yet that you believe!" That was really the beginning of the end of our relationship (certainly not the deciding factor, or even the most significant one...but it's significant enough to deserve mention).

During my college years, I experienced the deaths of two family members. This is significant because I think that, above everything else, death is a huge motivator in faith. Death is scary. The concept of not existing is really scary for a human being. It's no wonder to me that people often turn to a higher power in difficult situations; when we have no control over what is happening, I think that even IMAGINED control (like believing in prayer and an afterlife) can offer great comfort. And I didn't have that.

One thing that I think PoF's can't conceive of is that someone would deny that kind of comfort. The reality is that (and this goes back to the "choice" debate again), I cannot CHOOSE to believe in something. I could TRY to believe or even PRETEND to believe in something, but that wouldn't be the same thing. Not by a long shot. In more recent years, I've tended to gravitate more toward acceptance; something that was expressed really well by the late, great Carl Sagan:

For me, it is far better to grasp the Universe as it really is than to persist in delusion, however satisfying and reassuring

It's hard for me to remember that I didn't always feel the same sense of being comfortable in my own atheist skin as I am now. At the time, I was desperately wishing that I could be a Person of Faith. To fit in, to find comfort...to feel like I was okay. Case in point:

Late in my freshman year in college, and early in my sophomore year, within a few months of each other, I lost both my grandmother (after a 17-year battle with non-Hodgkin's Lymphoma) and my 4-year-old cousin (after her battle with widespread cancer, diagnosed with a brain tumor when she was just 18 months old). At that time I remember writing a poem about my feelings. I don't remember the whole thing, but it started out:

I want so badly to believe

There's more to life than what we see

To have the faith that some men do

Believe that God made me and you...

I was seeking...something. I was struggling to resolve the discrepancy between what I believed and what I felt I SHOULD believe. I entered a phase in my life where, while I was still agnostic, I desperately WANTED to believe. I wanted to fit in with society. I was tired of being so different. I wanted to find the comfort that so many PoF's seemed to find in their faith. I think I continued to feel that way through the rest of my college years and into graduate school...having doubts, but wanting to believe; somehow seeking proof that God *could* exist, in spite of my serious doubts.

A couple of other significant things happened during my college years. First, I met my future husband, C. While he was raised a devout Lutheran, we didn't really talk about religion. He hadn't attended church since his mother died (she was very religious, and he had attended for her sake), and it wasn't really an issue. We were both science majors (I studied Biosciences and Chemistry with a focus on ecology and evolution; he was a graduate student in the Microbiology department...a match made in "science-geek heaven"!), and were really just best friends hanging out for the next two years. I had no idea at the time that he would end up being the person I'd want to spend the rest of my life with.

The other item of note was something I saw in most of my college science classes: the apparent need professors had to resolve the "science vs. religion" issue. It boggles my mind now, as I didn't experience any of that in graduate school. In conservative, Christian North Dakota however, it seemed like it was an issue that had to be resolved at the very beginning of class before students could open their minds to accepting the curriculum. In my Zoology class, Dr. G spent an entire lecture on how science (specifically taxonomy/evolution) did not contradict the Bible, and that they could go hand-in-hand with one another. At the beginning of my Human Evolution class, I remember Dr. C spending a significant amount of time explaining how "science doesn't EXCLUDE God, it just doesn't INCLUDE one"...making the distinction that science is a study of the natural world, so it doesn't deal with the existence or nonexistence of gods; it says nothing either way. The only professor I had who didn't mince words or apologize for his curriculum was my Evolutionary Biology instructor. Dr. F even held a debate with some creationists, and told us about it in class. He definitely wasn't my favorite instructor (and I was often bored to tears by his horrible lecture style), but I have to say I respected him for that...even more so with an additional 14 years of maturity and life experience to my credit.

When I completed my degree, I had acceptance letters from two great Biology departments in two different graduate schools. One was in Iowa, and the other in Arizona. I'd personally had more than my fair share of snow and sub-zero winters...and I'd fallen in love with the desert when C and I took a road trip to Arizona the summer after my Junior year.

So I was off on my next big adventure, as I headed south for graduate school that fall...

Let's start at the very beginning... (part 1)

It is, after all (as Julie Andrews sang), a very good place to start. I think sometimes people wonder how an atheist becomes an atheist. This is my personal journey.

Many religious people seem to think that atheists have "decided to turn their back on God" for one reason or another. Perhaps something bad happened, so they "gave up on God." Or maybe they want to live a carefree, hedonistic lifestyle, so they "deny God." The reality is that, for most of us, being an atheist is NOT A CHOICE. The concept of God just doesn't seem real to us. A Person of Faith (heretoafter referred to as a PoF) telling me that I have made a choice to become an atheist would be like me telling them they made a choice to NOT believe in Zeus. Or unicorns. Or the fairies that live under the flowers in my garden.

At the risk of sounding harsh or patronizing, the concept of a personal God seems a little absurd to many of us (as absurd as a belief in flying unicorns might seem to a PoF), and we find it hard to understand how any thinking person could believe such nonsense. Yet, we know that many thinking people DO believe. And while some atheists write PoF's off as absurd or silly, many of us make an honest effort to empathize and try to understand a different viewpoint. In my experience in both social circles, atheists/agnostics/humanists tend to be much more accepting of PoF's than vice versa. Maybe because many of us, at some point in our lives, were PoF's ourselves.

First a bit about my "religious genealogy." My mom grew up with a Presbyterian dad and a Catholic mom, neither of whom were involved in their churches. As a kid, Mom went to church occasionally (not regularly) with her grandparents. She was baptized as an adult when my Grandfather (her dad) had a crisis of conscience and decided all his kids and upbaptized grandkids needed to be baptized (so, incidentally, I was baptized on the same day as my mom, when I was about 3 years old). Dad grew up in a much more religious household, with a dad who was an Evangelical United Bretheren minister (if you're up on your United States church history, you'll know the EUB eventually joined with the Methodists to become the United Methodists).

My parents were married in the local Presbyterian church in the same small town where I was born and raised. When I say small I mean SMALL. It was a Canadian-border town of about 1400 God-fearing people in rural North Dakota. It bordered an Indian reservation (on which almost everyone was Catholic), and the vast majority of people in my hometown were either Lutheran or Catholic (with a smattering of Methodists, Presbyterians, and Assembly of God). Literally EVERY family in town went to church.

Well...every family except ours.

And believe, me, it didn't go unnoticed.

I would categorize my upbringing as nondenominational Protestant. We read Bible stories, learned about Jesus, and we celebrated the Christian holidays. We learned about the Nativity at Christmas time and about Jesus' resurrection at Easter. We learned to say our prayers ("Now I lay me down to sleep, I pray the Lord my soul to keep, Guide me through the coming night, Wake me with the morning light. God bless Mom, Dad, etc...."). We did not attend a church, however. Mom wasn't a member of any church, and Dad didn't believe in churches. Funny since his dad was a minister, but he had definite opinions on the way money was collected and used by churches. When I was a teenager, my Dad told me he was agnostic. He had a strong interest in learning about other religions and had a hard time with the concept that everyone had the "We're right and everyone else is wrong" attitude.

Because we didn't go to church, my sister and I were ridiculed and teased. We were told we were "Devil worshippers" (among other things). Our next-door neighbors were on a mission to save us...I remember sitting with my friend, J, next to her garage on a summer day when we were playing outside (we couldn't have been more than 7 or 8). She had me recite a version of the Sinner's Prayer, which I did, then we went back to roller skating. I never really thought it was weird at the time, but I remember thinking that it held more significance for her than it did for me. Their parents often invited us to church with them, and my sister and I occasionally went. I couldn't figure out why everyone thought there was something wrong with us that needed to be fixed. We believed in God. My parents were raising us with a good moral compass, and I think that, by and large, my sister and I (who were often the subjects of ridicule for being "different" in our small town) lived more faithfully by the Golden Rule than any of the church-going kids we knew.

This treatment early on spoke volumes to me about keeping my mouth shut about any doubts I might have. We were already being ostracized...why make it worse?

While I DID believe in God, I know I had questions about specifics (like why our religion was right and why other people believed differently if we were the right ones) at a very early age. Case in point: My parents sent me to Bible school once. I don't remember how old I was (maybe 7), but I remember asking a question that the teacher didn't approve of. I can't remember exactly what it was, but it had to do with Jesus dying and being resurrected. I think it was in the realm of "how do we know that for sure?" I was told, "It's not nice to ask questions like that." More confirmation to keep my mouth shut and try to conform as best I could. After all, I wanted to be a nice girl...and those types of questions aren't "nice."

A spiritual turning point in my childhood came when I was nine years old. We had a cat that I was very much in love with...his name was Rocky. He was a fat, teddy-bear of a cat with a big heart and not-so-big intellect. He was my buddy, who played with me, slept in my bed, and loved me unconditionally. When Rocky was about 2 years old, he fell very ill. He stopped eating, and grew thinner and thinner. After several visits to the local vet, Dad took him to a veterinarian in a larger town. This big-town vet did an x-ray and saw what appeared to be a swallowed obstruction, but made an offhand comment that there was a small possibility it could be a tumor. Surgery was scheduled to remove it.

I remember praying to God that he take care of my cat. I remember specifically asking God to make sure my cat didn't have Cancer, and that he'd be okay. The next day came, along with a devastating call from the veterinarian. Rocky was filled with tumors, and there was no hope for my kitty. He was euthanized without ever coming out of surgery. My poor little 9-year-old heart was broken...and for the first time I was wondering...why didn't God listen to me? Why would he torture this innocent little creature with such a horrible disease? Maybe...just maybe...there isn't a God. Maybe...just maybe...God is like Santa Claus. He's a story made up by people so that we do good things (you know, he's keeping track of who's naughty and who's nice).

Of course, I didn't become an atheist at 9 because my cat died. And I know what a PoF would say about unanswered prayers, "God's plan," and the like. My point in telling the Rocky story is this: It's my earliest memory of having true doubt in the existence of God. I had just never really thought about it before. Until that point, I had taken my parents' word at face value that God was real, without really thinking about it. Without question.

So, in looking back, I can pinpoint the moment when the seeds of doubt were planted. My ever-maturing critical thinking skills just allowed those seeds to germinate and grow...