Showing posts with label non-believer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label non-believer. Show all posts

Wednesday, August 2, 2023

The atheist response to a national crisis

I've read it many times: participation in a religious community - a church, a temple, a mosque - generally correlates with better health outcomes and longer life, with higher financial generosity, and with more stable families. And I get why that's probably true because of what I experienced growing up and what I've seen so often in communities where most residents are religious. 

Most of my church experiences weren't negative - most were, in fact, quite good: I loved the sense of community, the sense of welcome, the sense of quiet comfort and the food at potlucks. And that background in attending not just church but church-related gatherings has helped me easily navigate a variety of cultures, ceremonies and gatherings, often much better than my colleagues who don't come from a religious background.  

We are a nation with rising rates of loneliness, mental illness and alcohol and drug dependency, as well as incredible divisiveness. I'm do NOT think the answer is more religion, however. 

In addition to all the dogma and intolerance for non-religion members, religion comes with a commitment: to attend services, usually once a week, and to join in social activities, like choir practice and performance, software ball games, potluck suppers, camps and volunteering. The people that go to events and activities aren't usually running to them in anticipation because they are just so incredibly wonderful and fun - part of the reason they go is that sense of obligation to their community. As a result, over time, religious practitioners get the benefits of feeling that sense of communal belonging, and the benefits of regularly engaging with other people. That's not at all a bad thing. But is religion really the only way to get that sense of community?

As religious practice wanes, people could still keep that commitment to engaging with other people and creating community, and I think it would be worth it for both individuals, personally, and for communities collectively. How can we do that, especially in a world traumatized by a pandemic that killed millions, scarred others with life-long disabilities and created so much mistrust of each other?

I think it's still possible, but it would require us each, individually, to make a commitment. 

Are you willing to make a commitment to community activities not for a God, but in the faith that it's good for your mental health and your community? 

Are you willing to reserve at least six hours a month engaged in a formal volunteering practice - helping at a blood donation drive for the Red Cross, helping at events at your children's school, helping at a Habitat for Humanity home build or home repair, etc.? 

Are you willing to go to one community event at least every quarter of a year: to a community theater production, to a high school sports event, to a game night in a bar, to a concert, etc.?   

You could even be more ambitious and formally join something: a book club, a Rotary Club, a community sports league, the organizing committee of the local branch of a political party, etc. 

Don't expect to go one time and have an immediate wonderful time and be bursting with enthusiasm to go again. That's not how community engagement works. It's a cultivation process, a slow process. You will have some uncomfortable times, maybe even some negative experiences. But ultimately, over time, it's absolutely worth it for you personally. And imagine if a significant portion of us did this - imagine what it might do collectively for our communities and society. 

I'm already doing all of the above, in fact. It's not easy: there are times when I just do NOT want to go to something I've committed to or planned. Often, I'm dreading having to wear outside-of-my-house clothes, finding a parking place, and not being home in comfy clothes on my couch. But I know that making a commitment to do these activities and fulfilling that commitment has an effect on my mental health over time: I don't feel nearly as hopeless or lonely as I do when I don't make time for these activities. I'm not nearly as cranky or pessimistic as I am when I disengage over long periods. And I think I'm much more pleasant to be around in-person and online as a result. 

Give it a go. Have some faith... in community investment. 

Wednesday, April 14, 2021

No doubt?

Atheists hear this question a lot from people who believe in a "God" or "Gods":

You don't have any doubt about God? You don't consider the possibility that maybe you're wrong and there is a God?

Here's what I'm 100% sure of:

  • No "God" or "Gods" have ever comforted me. If a "God" or "Gods" do exist, he or they have most certainly harmed me through his/their inaction or "divine plan." 
     
  • It is a huge relief not to try to justify the actions of an asshole - the God or Gods that either ignore millions of people being tortured or causes it." That torment in my mind ended when I decided to embrace my disbelief. 
     
  • It is glorious to evaluate people by their actions and the content of their character instead of trying to decide if they follow the "right" magical invisible omnipotent friend. 
     
  • When I stopped trying to follow a religion, when I stopped trying to "open my heart" and "let Jesus in" and all that, I went from feeling desperate and hurt and hopeless and abandoned to feeling like I was a part of something so much bigger than any religion, in a universe with far more possibilities than any religion has ever described to me. I felt like I belonged, and felt a huge burden lifted off of my heart. 
     
  • As a child, talk of the devil being after me, being after my family, was terrifying to me. It was terrorizing. It was abusive. As I listened to stories of how I would burn alive forever in the eternal fires of hell if I didn't submit to Christ - and when I lay there is a little girl crying in bed, begging Jesus to come into my heart, and he didn't, and me thinking that I was in the End Times and I was doomed, there was no magical voice comforting me, no peace that entered my heart - it was just sheer terror. The first step in embracing a universe without a God or Gods was my realizing that there is no magical demon plotting my pain and demise. That moment of realization became a moment of relief, a moment of cleansing - the solace I needed. I have no doubt about how comforting and wonderful it's been not to live in fear like that. 
     
  • Atheism has brought me a more hopeful feeling for right now and for the future. It's made me feel like possibilities are endless for human potential - and for my own potential. 
     
  • I have gotten far, far more comfort from watching Cosmos, reading history, experiencing art in its many forms, and learning about science than any church service or sermon has ever given me.
     
  • Atheism vastly improved my mental health, whereas attempts to "believe" harmed me mentally and emotionally. 
  • Religion or attempts at "belief" have never brought me the enjoyment and opportunities for hope and love anywhere near what atheism has. 

Of these realities, I have no doubt at all. 

Does your belief in God bring you joy? Or does it make you unhappy because all you see are your supposed shortcomings? Does it give you comfort and strength or does it tell you there is a demon making you unhappy and trying to tempt your family with evil and you need to pray more and study the Bible more? Does it dictate your choice in friends, your choice in books, your choice in music, your choice in what you should enjoy? And do those boundaries bring you joy or give you hope? Are scientific discoveries a challenge to your faith so much so that you feel you have to refute practices that science promotes, like taking vaccines or wearing masks to protect you from an infectious disease - which actually puts you and your family in danger?

Maybe doubt about your God wouldn't be such a bad thing. 

Also see:

Thursday, January 3, 2019

I have hope but not faith

When does the new year start? The Gregorian calendar says it just started and we're on day three of it. People that observe the Chinese lunar calendar haven't started their new year yet, nor have those that observe the Persian calendar. And then there is the Jewish calendar, which says the new year started back in September. And on and on...

I celebrate both the Gregorian calendar start of the year and the Winter Solstice, to both celebrate what's happened in the last 365 (or so) days, reflect on what's happened, think about the Earth spinning and moving around the Sun and anticipate what's coming, personally, professionally, historically and scientifically.

Most of my friends and associates acknowledge the Gregorian start of the new year, and many - more than most years - have said on social media that, this year, they are especially focused on hope. They are talking about how that's their word for the year. And there is something that bothers me about it: the way they are talking about it, I'm not sure they know what the word really means.

When they say I have hope for humanity what they mean is I believe humanity has an innate instinct, as a whole, to be kind, compassionate and less destructive and, eventually, this innate instinct will prevail, not because of any facts, but just because it's what I believe - it's my faith. The word hope is being used by a lot of people when they actually mean faith. They are using hope to mean complete confidence or trust in something, a strong belief in something, despite facts to the contrary.

I don't have faith in humanity. None. Zilch. But I do have hope. Hope is not faith. Hope is not blind trust. Hope is not confidence. Hope is a desire. Hope is a strong feeling of wanting something or wishing for something. Hope means that you want things to turn out well, but it does NOT mean you just assume they will, without any work or intervention. So, in using the correct definition of the word, yes, I have hope for humanity, but I don't have faith in humanity, don't have blind trust in humanity, and my confidence in humanity frequently waivers.

I hope for a better quality of life for the poorest and most oppressed of humanity, but I don't have faith or blind trust that it will just happen, naturally, without a tremendous amount of persistent work. I have hope for a world where natural spaces and the flora and fauna within are better protected, but I don't have faith or blind trust that it's just somehow going to happen because humans are to be trusted, without a great deal of pressure, to make it happen. I have hope for the future, but I don't have faith or blind trust that it's all just somehow going to work out for everyone.

When you lose hope, when you lose the desire for something to be better, that's when you welcome depression into your life. While I am a skeptic, I am not a cynic - at least, I try not to be. It's been tough since November 2016 not to be a cynic. But I still have hope. When I lose that, then you can start worrying about me.

What fuels my hope? It's simple: I want to live in a world where everyone has access to a safe place to live and prosper, where they can pursue any academic or trade job-based education they want, and where they can access all the quality healthcare they need. Why do I desire - hope - for all that? Because the world would be a better place to live, for me, personally, and for everyone. Living in a world where all that isn't happening creates misery and suffering - and I don't like misery nor suffering, not for myself and not for anyone else.

In 2019, I wish you to have a feeling of hope for the things you cherish and care about. And I hope you are also inspired to feed that hope with actions.