Losing your religion, losing your tribe

From an opinion piece in The Washington Post, September 22, 2025: 

The moment I finally admitted that evolution was real didn’t feel liberating. It felt like grief. I had spent years running up against hard evidence that, despite my best efforts, I simply couldn’t refute. I was in the shower, and I cried inconsolably. Accepting evolution meant more than just accepting a scientific theory. It meant leaving my community and almost every friend I had ever known, and it was the final nail in the coffin of my arranged marriage.

This is by Ella Al-Shamahi, a former Muslim missionary, now the host of “Human,” premiering on PBS this month and now an evolutionary biologist. She says that working on this documentary about our human species made me reflect on her own evolution, "and how, when you ask people to do something simple such as 'believe the science,” you might actually be asking them to pay an almost unimaginable price.'"  

I get it.

Finally embracing my atheism was scary. I had been conditioned to believe that being an atheist was the absolutely worst thing someone could be, because I was told repeatedly that atheists have no moral compass. In admitting to myself, let alone anyone else, that I was an atheist, would I suddenly decide to regularly break the speed limit, rob a bank, or worse? In fact, none of that happened and I still get teased when I won't break a line or keep the $20 I find on the sidewalk that someone just dropped.  

But I was, and am, most definitely, out of the Fellowship. I'm from the Bible Belt, where people pray before breakfast, even if they are alone. And before football games. And before workshops on volunteer management (yes, really). When you buy burgoo or a chicken dinner, you are very likely financially supporting a church. I can live without invitations to Baptisms, but it makes me sad to think I haven't been invited to some weddings because I'm not a Christian. It doesn't bother me when everyone prays before a meal, but I still want to get to hold hands. 

I would be lying if I said I didn't miss church pot lucks. I would be lying if I said I didn't miss the community of a community of faith. I would be lying if I didn't say losing my religion didn't hurt at first, and didn't sometimes still smart. 

But I'd also be lying if I said I had any regrets. 

Need a strategy for approaching a deeply-religious community? Talk to the Atheist.

I know people don't believe me when I say that I'm Atheist but that I also have a deep, rich understanding of faith-based, even very religiously-conservative, communities and congregations.

If you have read my past blogs, you know that I was not raised as an Atheist. Rather, I was raised in a rural part of the USA, in the Bible Belt, as a Baptist who often went to a Methodist church, and went to a lot of different churches per their special events, like revivals. 

The big religious divide where I'm from, at least at the time, was between Catholics and those that weren't Catholics. I grew up hearing how Catholics weren't really Christian, because they did this or that and it wasn't in the Bible, or went against what the Bible said (like idol worship). I also had Catholic friends who told me they were sad because we wouldn't be in heaven together, since I wasn't Catholic. I hesitate to call non-Catholics Protestants because I know so many Christians that hate that term: they don't feel their religion was ever a part of Catholicism but, in fact, was how the Disciples followed Christ, and that's where their religious practice comes from. 

Did you know any of that? I know a lot of Christians that don't know any of that. But I know all that and more. Yup, the Atheist knows that. 

As a teen, I babysat a LOT. One of the families I worked for was Catholic. One evening, I taught their little girl some songs I knew, like "Deep and Wide" and "Zacchaeus was a wee little man," songs that have hand movements that go along with them. I learned them in Sunday School and at summer Vacation Bible School. The mom later told me she was thrilled, because in the Catholic Church, they didn't have VBS (they do now), they didn't have children's songs, and she always loved the Protestant songs but didn't really know them enough to teach her daughter. 

Did you know that about the history of VBS? A lot of Christians I talk to don't know it. The Atheist knows it. 

I grew up going to a church at least once a week - sometimes twice (for Wednesday night services, a youth group event, for choir practice, etc.). I went to revivals at different churches - that wasn't at all unusual where I was from, to head over to the Church of the Nazarene for a week of youth revival, even though I didn't go to that church, for instance. 

Did you know that about the fluidity of different church attendance by a lot of Christians, particularly in the South? The Atheist knows it. 

I worked for a while in an Islamic country. There was a prayer before every large staff meeting. One of my co-workers from Germany said it really put her "off." I just shrugged: I was used to prayers before large meetings at government functions and public functions where I grew up in rural USA. At this job in this Islamic country, I was the foreign staff member who always remembered to put prayer time at the start of certain meeting agendas - all the other foreign staff always forgot. 

Yes, me. The Atheist. I'm the one who remembered that. 

Surveys over and over show that Atheists know more about religions than the religious. My knowledge of Christianity is a combination of growing up in the Bible belt and being intensely curious and an avid reader. I never just followed the ceremony or ritual - I wanted to know why and asked a ton of questions and re-read sections in our encyclopedia about religions set over and over. And I didn't read just one Bible - I read different translations of the Bible. I argued in Sunday School with the teacher about interpretations she was teaching. Part of the reason I gave up on Christianity was because I read and studied it so intensely. 

My curiosity led me to read the texts and teachings and history of other religions over the years: Judaism, Islam, Buddhism and Hinduism. It was a shock to my young self to learn that these religions were just as divided and in conflict with each other as so many different sects of Christianity were. It was also a shock to see that they all primarily wanted obedience to religious rules rather than adherence to to being a good person to other people and the environment - they all teach that compliance with the religion is of far greater value than being kind to others, even non-believers. In my 40s, I worked with several people who followed the Baháʼí religion - another fascinating religion with it's own set of beliefs and values. 

I have delighted in learning from Jewish, Muslim and Baháʼí friends, colleagues and communities, particularly abroad. I hope to have similar experiences regarding Hindusim and Buddhism abroad. Why? Because I'm curious. Also, because very often, food is involved. And I am staunchly pro food. 

But as a result of all this, I'm the one who, when organizing the community meeting, will bring up that we might want to phrase something differently, because of how the very traditional community we're about to talk to might not like the wording. Or say we should emphasize this community benefit over the others, because that's what these folks value most - and it's very different than how we, the staff, might think about it. And I'm the one, at Habitat for Humanity events, that has to remind staff that they might want to have a prayer before they start - it being a Christian-based organization and all... 

Yup. Me. The Atheist. 

Strength without a god - it happens!

I recently had a death in my family. After a beautiful funeral with singing and lovely stories, and frequent references to God that weren't oppressive or excluding, a minister closed the service with a short sermon. As he spoke, I had to suppress a lot of anger and put it away to think about for another time - I didn't want what had been a really special service to be ruined by his inappropriate, even cruel, ideas. 

The minister's central message was about how anything good came from his god, how all strength came from his god, and how love and goodness were IMPOSSIBLE without his god. He was adamant that those who don't believe in such cannot have strength and cannot experience love. 

All of that is bollocks and it insults those of us who have never found strength, nor love, nor anything, via a belief in a god. 

Love is real. It is not imaginary. Love is a bond in someone or to something. To love is to cherish a person or thing. A person's feelings of love can be based in romantic or sexual feelings, but it also can be experienced without those - it can be based in someone or something that is inspiring or comforting or delightful. It is beyond affection - it is a feeling that generates acts of loyalty, devotion, concern, even obligation on the part of the person who loves. 

At its best, love inspires us to care and to have compassion. At its best, it is what the Bible says it is in 1 Corinthians 13:4-8: "Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. 5 It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth." It absolutely can protect, build trust, cultivate hope, and, yes, persevere - but I disagree that it always does those things, as the Bible says. Love takes work and, indeed, love can fade, or even end.  

In 2005, a research team published a groundbreaking study that included the first functional MRI (fMRI) images of the brains of individuals in the throes of romantic love. The team analyzed 2,500 brain scans of college students who viewed pictures of someone special to them and compared the scans to ones taken when the students looked at pictures of acquaintances. Photos of people they romantically loved caused the participants’ brains to become active in regions rich with dopamine, the so-called feel-good neurotransmitter. 

Music is universally accepted as something helpful during stressful and traumatizing periods, and people embraced the music they loved as COVID-19 spread insidiously around the globe during the Spring of 2020, as people sang to each other from their balconies, performed virtual fundraising concerts, created both silly and serious tunes about hand washing, physical distancing, and other aspects of pandemic life. 

Habitat for Humanity does amazing work, and central to that work is that it "brings people together to build homes, communities and hope." Habitat says that it does that work because it is "seeking to put God’s love into action." But you can take "God's" out and it still makes perfect sense to me, a secular humanist: putting love into action to bring people together to build homes, communities and hope.

As I have noted in other blogs, I had several moments of severe hopelessness as a teen, as I tried to navigate a dysfunctional home, an abusive parent, and other family members who avoided even acknowledging what was happening, let alone facing it. Trying to believe in a god and praying to, desperately, for help and strength left me feeling even more alone, more despondent, more hopeless. It made me feel like a failure. It never helped. What got me through those times, instead, what gave me strength to get through it and away from it, was slowly letting go of seeking help from something unseen and unfelt, and instead realizing and discovering and feeling and slowly cultivating my own sense of self, and liking myself, and seeing people survive and thrive through a great deal of hard work - no prayers necessary. It was seeing the world as something so much bigger than any religion defined it. It was seeing the universe as neutral, not as a thinking being, with feelings, but just as reality, with no judgement, with no intent, but full of possibilities - far more than any religion ever promised. 

Atheists/secular humanists don't think poorly or unkindly of people who find comfort in a belief in an invisible, magical friend. But many of us cringe at people saying, "We survived because God was looking out for us," thinking about just how much that statement hurts parents who lost a child - they've just been told God wasn't looking out for their little one. And I do think poorly of someone who would say at a funeral, without knowing everyone there, that strength and love come exclusively from a god. 

Love can be a source of strength, and both are absolutely possible WITHOUT A BELIEF IN A GOD. 

Also see 

Why I love being an atheist

The power & the glory of hope, WITHOUT a God

Your skills, talents & time are needed: volunteer

No matter where you are, there are people and environments around you that need you, that would welcome you, as a volunteer through a range of nonprofit organizations. 

Habitat for Humanity is a Christian organization, but did you know that 

• they welcome anyone, including atheists, to participate in their house building and neighborhood restorations, 
• they have zero religious requirements regarding clients and, therefore, have helped Muslims, Sikhs, Buddhists, Hindus and, yes, Atheists? 
• they work on the legislative level to address, through public policy and legislation, both equitable access to home ownership and historical barriers to home ownership by various minority groups?
• they are one of the most passionate and active anti-racist organizations anywhere?
• they are becoming more and more active in the green-building movement?

I've volunteered with my local Habitat affiliate, and except for one volunteer, one white guy, who insists on praying before we start a build, I have felt absolutely comfortable and welcomed. And I love being engaged with an organization that does all of the above. 

Goodwill is focused on helping people enter or re-enter the workforce. Goodwill thrift stores are their main fundraising tool for that work, in addition to providing a space for their clients to get work experience. Your local Goodwill may have ESL classes, computer classes, resumé writing classes and more they would love your help with. 

There are refugees and immigrants in your community. Yes, really. And there's a nonprofit that's trying to help them. You could drive immigrants to a grocery store, show them how to use mass transit, help them with school entrollment paperwork, help them move, help them with a job application and so much more. Any search engine will help you find nonprofits helping immigrants in your area. 

Food banks, Meals on Wheels, a local community theater, your local public library, a dog breed rescue group, a women's shelter, a homeless shelter, a local watershed, a local state park, a local national park - all need and welcome volunteers. 

Go volunteer. Go volunteer for just a day and see how you like it. Volunteer in a cause you care about. Volunteer so you don't feel helpless. Volunteer to become better edcuated about a cause you care about. 

Volunteer. 

Still here. Just not sure what to say

I am still here! Still finding inspiration and wonder in the world, despite all of the many bad things: a felon President committing more felonies, an electorate that put him there, all that's happening in Gaza and Afghanistan and the DAR and Sudan and on and on. Very hard to find hope these days, no question. 

You can't fight this alone. And I'm not going to tell you how to fight it because I don't really know myself. I keep reading about "keep fighting" and "keep resisting" and I've no idea what that looks like right now. So whatever YOU find, and you believe its productive and it is within your ethical framework and you are comfortable with the risks and potential negative consequences that come with the action, I guess... go for it? Just please don't engage in violence against people. Please don't. 

What's also important is staying mentally healthy right now. It's vitally important, actually. 

I think some keys right now to staying afloat are:

• NOT disengaging, but not ALWAYS engaging. Pick a time for news reading or watching and an amount of time for doing it and then turn it off. 
• Get outside - unless you feel you may be targeted for deportation. Walk around your neighborhood. Walk in public parks. Get that winter and rain gear on and get outside even when the weather bites. Get your head clear. 
• Lean on things like getting outside, being with people that love you, listening to music and doing things you enjoy rather than alcohol or cannabis. Don't lean on those. 
• Read books. 
• Watch PBS. If you aren't already giving, give $5 a month so you can get a subscription to their on-demand channel, Passport, and watch some things good for your mind and soul. 
• Look for community events to attend that bring you together with people who are not fascists - but, of course, only if you don't fear deportation. Go to events at the library. At the community theater. At the nearest university. Hosted by a nonprofit that supports refugees or LBGTQ people. 

I hope that, if you can, that you will keep track of what federal actions are hurting people, and reach out to those people affected. There are plenty of nonprofits that can help you do this. 

Dark times. Look for the light. Go to the light. 

Why Did God Create Atheists? - from Tales of the Hasidim

Why Did God Create Atheists?

There is a famous story told in Chassidic literature that addresses this very question. The Master teaches the student that God created everything in the world to be appreciated, since everything is here to teach us a lesson.

One clever student asks “What lesson can we learn from atheists? Why did God create them?” The Master responds “God created atheists to teach us the most important lesson of them all — the lesson of true compassion. You see, when an atheist performs an act of charity, visits someone who is sick, helps someone in need, and cares for the world, he is not doing so because of some religious teaching. He does not believe that God commanded him to perform this act. In fact, he does not believe in God at all, so his acts are based on an inner sense of morality. And look at the kindness he can bestow upon others simply because he feels it to be right.”

“This means,” the Master continued “that when someone reaches out to you for help, you should never say ‘I pray that God will help you.’ Instead for the moment, you should become an atheist, imagine that there is no God who can help, and say ‘I will help you.’”

Martin Buber. Tales of the Hasidim. Schocken Books. (1964)

Trying to stay human while watching the Israeli - Palestinian conflict

Watching the most recent violence in the Israeli - Palestinian conflict is gut-wrenching. 

Nations that identify with a particular religion make me uncomfortable - the Islamic Republic of Iran, the Islamic Republic of Mauritania, the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan... as much as I understand the desire for a Jewish homeland, given the centuries of persecution people of the Jewish faith have experienced, let alone the Shoah itself, there is a part of me that isn't comfortable with a Jewish state, just as I am not comfortable with all those Islamic Republics. 

Still, I get it: various people, communities and civilizations have tried to murder all Jews for centuries. I see why there is a desire for a country that is dedicated to the preservation of all who identify as Jewish, which is more than a religion for many people - it's an ancient diverse culture and people who identify with it may not be religious at all.

But even if I agree that the Jewish state of Israel has a right to exist, I am absolutely opposed to the settlements in the West Bank. I am appalled at the continuing land grab and the violence regularly perpetuated by Jewish settlers against Palestinian Muslims and Christians who have been on that land for generations, who have every right to be on that land. The expulsions of Palestinians from land Israel claims is abhorrent. 

And with that said, I am beyond disgusted, outraged, appalled and horrified at this latest Hamas act of terror and murder: the attack on attendees at the Supernova music festival. This violence is INEXCUSABLE. If you believe that Hamas and Israel are at war, then you must also acknowledge that this attack was a war crime. It most definitely was a crime against humanity. 

And with all THAT said, Israel's murderous response isn't going to make any Israeli safer. It is an act of vengeance, not a war strategy. 

I hear both sides talking about the eradication of the other. I hear both sides saying their dead children matter and the other side's dead children aren't their fault. I hear both sides characterizing the other as animals, as sub human. 

This sums up how I'm feeling:

To the people celebrating the mass murder of Israeli civilians, you have lost your humanity. To the people enthusiastically calling for Israel to decimate Gaza, densely populated with 2 million Palestinian civilians, you have lost your humanity. Israelis and Palestinians are real people, just like you and me.

- Dov Waxman, Professor @ UCLA; Gilbert Foundation Chair of Israel Studies, & Director of Y&S Nazarian Center for Israel Studies.

I don't know what the answer is. But I'm going to do all I can to stay human and hope that there are people in Israel and Palestine who don't hate each other, who believe it's possible to co-exist, and who are ready to call out the crimes of their own people. 

Wildly impractical moments

There's a good essay in the Washington Post, published in August of this year by a woman who is dying from a rare and aggressive cancer. It sounds like that she both found out she had the disease and that it is advanced, incurable and that she has just a few months to live all at the same time. 

She notes, "My prognosis has left me shocked, sad, angry and confused. I wake up some mornings raging at the universe, feeling betrayed by my own body, counting the years and the milestones I expected to enjoy with my family... I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about my life, and in addition to the horror, a surprising feeling has taken hold: I am dying at age 49 without any regrets about the way I’ve lived my life."

I don't expect people who have disabilities or who are terminally ill should ever expect to be an inspiration for the rest of us. Not all of them have this person's perspective nor experience. But I find her outlook on her life's choices really inspiring. 

After noting her very happy marriage and a particularly successful career pursuit, she says,

I’ve always tried to say yes to the voice that tells me I should go out and do something now, even when that decision seems wildly impractical. A few years ago, with very little planning, my family and I got in a car and drove 600 miles to a goat farm in central Oregon, where we camped out for four days to watch a solar eclipse. I once jetted off to Germany on two days’ notice, spending a week exploring Dresden and hiking through the Black Forest...

The end of my life is coming much too soon, and my diagnosis can at times feel too difficult to bear. But I’ve learned that life is all about a series of moments, and I plan to spend as much remaining time as I can savoring each one, surrounded by the beauty of nature and my family and friends. Thankfully, this is the way I’ve always tried to live my life.

Of course not all of us can do what she's done, like live in one of the most unaffordable parts of the USA, or even run off to Germany, for that matter. Not caring about money isn't just a choice - it's a luxury not everyone can afford. She could buy that airline ticket, she could pay for that gas to drive up to Oregon and back - so many cannot. 

But I'm focusing on the idea that, indeed, sometimes, doing something that is wildly impractical is just what you need. It doesn't have to come with a big bill either. 

I have a friend that has always wanted to learn Italian. She loves all things Italian. When I said, "Why don't you sign up on Duolingo and learn Italian?" she replied, "I really should learn something useful, like Spanish. They only speak Italian in Italy." If you feel inspired to learn Italian, LEARN ITALIAN! Just do it for the sake of doing it! 

Take class on baking. Or wood working. Or smithing. 

Go see that band you have ALWAYS wanted to but keep thinking, oh, it's so much trouble and I can't afford it - cancel all your streaming subscriptions for a couple of months and DO IT. 

Always wanted to learn to play piano? Whether you are 20 or 50 or 70 - do it! Free pianos are easy to find - so many people want to get rid of pianos. All you have to pay is the movers to get such to your house. Buy some how to books and get going! 

And say "yes" to more invitations. Say yes to going to dinner, say yes to going to the movies, say yes to going for a walk, say yes to going somewhere for a cookout. There are a limited number of beautiful days. There are a limited number of days you will be able to walk. There are a limited number of days you will have with family and friends. I know it's fashionable to celebrate being an introvert, and certainly you should avoid toxic people, but the people I know who always say no to everything are miserable. I love cocooning at home too, more often than I should, but I have been so thankful when I've gone out, whether for a walk around a lake or to go see Barbie. 

I know that I have lived more than half of the life I will live. I can't say I don't have any regrets. But I can say that I've experienced many wonderful things. Some of those pursuits have gotten mocked: I'll never forget the sibling who dressed me down for traveling so much ("An absolute waste of money!"). He's wrong, of course. I love looking at photos from my life. I love reading journal entries I've written over the years. And I'm looking forward to more wildly impractical moments. 

Some recommended readings from two other atheists

Some recommended readings from two other atheists:

Bruce Gerencser is a blogger, a humanist and an atheist. He pastored evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a He's 62, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 41 years. He and his wife have six grown children and twelve grandchildren. 

Here's one of his blogs from 2019 I just discovered and I really love: Christian Explanations for Why Bad Things Happen. If you grow up in a Bible-believing society, as I did, you get all the reasoning he lists thrown at you whenever something bad happens in your life. The mental and spiritual gymnastics of believers is astonishing - and so profoundly hurtful when you are going through a crisis. 

And in the Richard Dawkins is still a dick department, we have this blog from the Friendly Atheist noting that Richard Dawkins used his new podcast to promote more transphobic lies. 

I remain flabbergasted by that man's refusal to believe in science. He's a freakin' scientist! He's supposed to be a biologist - and he ignores biology! Regardless of how you feel about people identifying as transgender - and for the record, I have some feelings about it, feelings that I know would hurt the feelings of some of my more activist friends - no one can say with any grain of truth that transgender doesn't exist in humans and other species. Even if you think some people who say they are transgender aren't really transgender, you cannot honestly deny that transgender does not exist in other species! Because IT DOES EXIST. Regardless of your feelings, that FACT is undeniable. If you are transgender, especially if you are a young person, please hear me clearly: not all atheists are assholes like Richard Dawkins. You exist, you are real, you are transgender, being transgender is not imaginary or a fad, I will use whatever pronouns you want me to, and I hope you are pursuing living your best life. 

Humanism from the Holocaust

I think that the absence of God can be really beautiful. It means it's our responsibility to take care of each other on this earth. And everything courageous and beautiful that we do is on us. And so I see my atheism very much as an act of optimism, that it is our job to make this world as good of a place as possible for as many people as possible.

-- Vanessa Zoltan, in an interview with NPR. Zoltan is a humanist chaplain who describes herself as an atheist chaplain. She is the chaplain at UnityPoint Health – Meriter, a hospital in Madison, Wisconsin. Martin says that the religion she was raised in, the theology she was raised in, was the Holocaust. All four of her grandparents were Auschwitz survivors and her parents were born right after World War II.

"..every law I was taught, as to how to walk through the world, was through the orientation of the Holocaust." She calls it the "theology of the Holocaust." She says in the interview that, because of this theology, taught through her family's experience, that her family had certain core values they lived by: that you always get involved if you see anything going on with your neighbors. That you question bureaucracy before you follow it. And you look at friends and neighbors and wonder whether or not they would hide you if you ever needed to be hidden.

I LOVE her statement about the absence of God being beautiful. Because it is. I wrote back in 2015 why I love being an atheist, so I won't repeat myself but, yeah, I still love being an atheist, and I'm not using the word love lightly.

Her statement about the Holocaust being her theology really struck me. I am not Jewish. I have no Jewish ancestry. I would never assume anything about my experience is anything like hers or her families. But there's no denying that learning about Holocaust when I was a teenager played a MASSIVE role in my finally embracing not just my atheism, but my humanism. It was not Christianity that taught me of the utterly vital importance of believing in the equal and inherent dignity of all humans. It was not Christianity that emphasized the vital importance, the essential nature, of a concern for all humans and a belief that we must look out for our neighbors. It was the Holocaust. 

I grew up in rural Kentucky, in an overwhelmingly evangelical Christian area. I grew up being told repeatedly that Jesus was a Jew, but I wasn't entire sure what that was. My first Jewish experience was probably when I read the play The Diary of Anne Frank in junior high school - and it hit me like a ton of bricks: I was immediately horrified and terrified. I could not understand why I had never heard of the Holocaust. I thought not only what I would do in hiding but how I would or could hide someone. I understood, for the first time, that your own country and neighbors could turn on you. I have no idea how many times I read that play outside of school hours and then, in high school, it was not only again something we read in an English class, it was not only the play we did my junior year of high school (I was Miep), but it was the prelude to an entire semester where we studied the Holocaust in my Kentucky pubic high school. 

Yes, the only high school in a county in Kentucky, in the early 1980s, made every student, no matter what academic track they were on, study the Holocaust. The films we watched were tied to our English classes instead of history classes, because not every student had a history class, but every student had an English class. We watched at least two documentaries, including one I saw again, decades later, when I visited Dachau. We watched Playing for Time in class. Sophie's Choice came on one of the movie channels my parents subscribed to and I watched it, alone. At university, still in Kentucky, I attended a talk by Alfons Heck, who at one time was the highest ranking Hitler youth, at the end of World War II, and and Jewish Holocaust survivor Helen Waterford. They visited more than 150 universities over nine years, urging us to avoid Hitler-type brainwashing. I took the message to deeply to heart. It's dominated my thinking ever since. (I highly recommend you read Heck's book, A Child of Hitler: Germany in the Days When God Wore a Swastika).

I've never stopped thinking about the Shoah. And its framed my outlook on the world ever since. I've never stopped thinking about how I would flee nor how I would help someone hide and flee. I have taken to heart what I read once: "Do you wonder what you would have done in Germany in the 1930s? You're doing it now."

The Holocaust, and all genocides that I've studied, have changed how I view the enslavement and oppression black Americans - and in understanding what the underground railroad really did, what that work really entailed, and the risk the participants were really taking. What would you have done in the 1850s and 1860s in the USA? You're doing it now. 

My studies of the Holocaust has made me go down many a rabbit hole in trying to learn what happened to neighbors and communities that lead to the purges in Cambodia and the genocides in Rwanda and Bosnia. I am appalled at the murders of the Rohingya in Burma and the denial of it by Daw Aung San Suu Kyi, someone once celebrated as a champion of human rights - how does that happen? The Holocaust makes me see the demonization of immigrants world wide, not just the USA, the rise in nationalism in so many countries, not only the USA, requiring people to not question nor criticize their governments, the celebration and election of people who are Nazi-adjacent and Nazi-friendly in my own country as well as in others, and the massive rise in anti-Semitism globally, including in my own country, and it has me horrified and terrified.  

But I also come back to my humanity. My humanism. In all those horrors, I do read hope, like the Muslims who hid Christian Tutsis from death squads and murderous mobs. Or I see it for myself, when I went to a local mosque in the county where I live, for a meeting to show support for Muslims in the face of comments and actions by the then President of the USA, and there were members of a Jewish congregation there, and one of them standing up to say, "We will encircle this mosque if we have to. They will have to get through us to ever get to you." 

What would I have done in Germany in the 1930s? I like to think I'm doing it now. But I know I come up short. I could do more. I should do more. I write my elected officials and I show up at their pubic town halls. I use my privilege to ask tough questions of the police in public forums. I don't push my views on everyone - but I also don't hide them, and it's cost me friends, friendly relations with some neighbors and regular visits with much of my family. And those are real costs, costs I sometimes mourn. But not worth betraying my humanism. 

More about Vanessa Zoltan.

Also see:

I have hope but not faith.

Magic, Kindness and Hope.

The power & the glory of hope, WITHOUT a God.

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. 

Curious

If you haven't seen the television series Ted Lasso, stop reading now - because the following is a spoiler. And I wouldn't spoil that show for the world. If you have no desire to watch Ted Lasso, please also stop reading, because the following will mean nothing to you. 

For those of you who did watch it, or watched at least the first season: I felt like I knew who I was, for the first time in my life, when Ted Lasso played darts. 

Guys have underestimated me my entire life and for years I never understood why – it used to really bother me. Then one day I was driving my little boy to school, and I saw a quote by Walt Whitman, it was painted on the wall there and it said, ‘Be curious, not judgmental.’ I like that. 

(Ted throws a dart.)

So, I get back in my car and I’m driving to work and all of a sudden it hits me – all them fellas that used to belittle me, not a single one of them was curious. You know, they thought they had everything all figured out, so they judged everything, and they judged everyone. And I realized that their underestimating me – who I was had nothing to do with it. Because if they were curious, they would’ve asked questions. Questions like, ‘Have you played a lot of darts, Ted?’”

(Ted throws another dart.)

To which I would have answered, ‘Yes sir. Every Sunday afternoon at a sports bar with my father from age ten until I was 16 when he passed away.’ Barbecue sauce. 

(Ted throws a double bullseye to win the game.)

Some people love this scene because the person he beats in the game so deserved to be beaten, and got beaten by his own hubris - he made an assumption, he didn't to his homework. And that is delightful. But for me, I love the scene because I, too, have been underestimated all my life. I still am by a lot of folks, including some very dear to me. But it mostly happened when I was far younger, and so often belittled by neighborhood kids, some fellow students, even some teachers. Hearing that speech on Ted Lasso made me realize, for the first time, that none of them were curious. Not about anything, not just me. Later, when I started to do quite well at this or that, I would hear about their shock. "Her?! She did THAT?!? She worked THERE?!? She met HIM?!? She went to THERE?!?" And my favorite: "She sings?!"

Yes, me. I did that. Because I'm curious, and because I found other people just as curious as me. 

And if you have known me, but didn't know I sing - then you were never curious about me. 

Be kind to others. And be curious. 

"Journalism saved me from fundamentalism"

...truth is not a set of answers that you begin with and then retroactively fit the questions to. It's something that requires rigor and modesty and a lot of work... a lot of things that we would like to put in boxes labeled true and false defy our ability to do that. I think fundamentalism is this desire to put answers out of reach of questioning... I've come to believe that journalism saved me from fundamentalism... t's taught me that truth is not a set of answers that you begin with and then retroactively fit the questions to. It's something that requires rigor and modesty and a lot of work. And also our recognition that a lot of things that we would like to put in boxes labeled true and false defy our ability to do that.

Jon Ward, in a interview with NPR, about walking away from evangelical, fundamentalist Christianity.

Mr. Ward is still a Christian. He still defines himself as a man of faith. But he also believes in questioning and learning and growing and exploring and CHANGING HIS MIND. Questioning and pondering were things that many an exasperated Sunday School teacher, preacher and friend that is a believer most certainly did NOT want me to keep doing as I grew up, and said so when they were tired of me asking questions and making observations. And I didn't even go to fundamentalist churches!

Do read that NPR article. The part about being expected to faint and gyrate per "receiving" the Holy Spirit is something I could definitely identify with. 

I'm not sure if I had been handled differently by all those people I asked questions of that I would not have turned out to be an atheist. As I've said many times, I just never felt anything in any church or religious service or during prayer that every one said I would, or was supposed to, or whatever. And I WANTED to believe - I was entirely onboard as a little girl and couldn't wait to finally feel that closeness with and comfort from God everyone said I would if I just kept praying, just kept keeping my heart open, and blah blah blah. 

I am open to finding out something I wanted to be true isn't. That someone I believed in isn't who I thought they were. That how I feel about something now may not be how I feel about it in a few years. That I might be wrong. I feel sorry for people who are incapable of changing their mind as facts emerged - and I feel scared of them when they are in positions of power. 

Scientific understanding changes from time to time, and that doesn't bother me at all - that's what happens as more facts become available. Why would I fear that? The facts don't change but our understanding of such does. I love that it leads to MORE questions - so exciting! Endless discovery! Wahoo!

Also see:

The Benefits of Awe

No doubt?

The reason for the season? Light.

The reason for the season? It is, literally, the tilt of the Earth in relation to the sun. And today, in the Northern Hemisphere, it is the Winter Solstice, the shortest day of the year, when the Earth's North pole has reached its maximum tilt away from the Sun. We deck our halls with boughs of holly and bring in trees into our houses and decorate them and burn the Yule log, borrowing those traditions from earlier religions that honored the solstice. Much of the celebrations surrounding the Winter Solstice are about the hope and faith we have that the sun, the light will return. Whatever light you hope for, I have faith that it will return, in case you've been missing it.

The Glory of the James Webb Telescope

I hope you've been looking at all the photos from the James Webb Space Telescope. I hope you have been seeking out the photos and the commentary! The photos have already expanded our view of the universe and are already giving us further insight into the mysteries of the vast universe.

The experience of looking at the photos and reading the commentary about them is exciting, it's inspiring, it's beautiful and it's educational. It's revelations! And it gives me hope. 

Have a look:

The new science coming from the James Webb telescope has astronomers giddy (NPR).

James Webb Space Telescope's stunning 'Phantom Galaxy' picture looks like a wormhole (NPR).

Webb Images of Jupiter and More Now Available In Commissioning Data (NASA).

I look out at that vast universe and think of all the wonderful opportunities for learning. And all possibility. Dream it - it could be out there! 

We are under no obligation to praise the universe - it has no consciousness nor ears to hear such, and no ego that needs to be catered to. But I do feel reverence for the universe - its vastness, its complexity, its glorious majesty, its potential for endless learning. I want to celebrate it, I want to indulge this feeling of rapture - and so I do! 

We need psalms of celebration for these amazing photos and the knowledge that comes with them! 

And we also need to celebrate that we have a brain and a consciousness that allows us both to celebrate it and to wonder what it means.

Where's My Cape?

Sometimes, I wish there was an outfit - a habit - or some kind of headdress or scarf that people could adopt to say:

• I’m an atheist.
• I’m a humanist.
• I’m a learner.
• I’m committed to science.
• I am a perpetual student.

Just so we find each other... and witness for OUR values just by popping into the 7-11.

The Benefits of Awe

Awe “makes us curious rather than judgmental. It makes us collaborative. It makes us humble, sharing and altruistic. It quiets the ego so that you’re not thinking about yourself as much.” 

It also calms the brain’s default mode network and has been shown to reduce inflammation. In other words, don’t underestimate the power of goose bumps.

This article from the Washington Post about the power of "awe" is amazing. 

And here is the 2018 white paper prepared for the John Templeton Foundation by the Greater Good Science Center at UC Berkeley September 2018: The Science of Awe.

Civility is reasonable

There are lots of people I hate. Yes, hate: people to which I feel an intense, even passionate, aversion. Why do I hate them? Because they currently, or previously, and callously or cruelly, harmed people, or encouraged harm to people. Because their arrogance has ruined or will ruin people's lives. Because they would like to keep me and or others in subservience and hardship. Because they delight in distress and damage. Because they think it's funny to insult me. 

What do I do about such people? If they are in elected office, I work to get someone else elected. If they have some kind of power and influence over others, I try to discourage people from listening to them, from following them, if I feel safe doing so. Otherwise, I just try to avoid them and not do anything that in any way contributes to their prosperity. It's not always easy - I hate people that go inside the grocery and won't wear a mask, or wear it properly, but I have to go to the grocery. 

There are lots of people I find annoying. I don't hate them, but I don't like them. They're loud and disturb my peace. They ignore me when I am in need of their professional service. They act annoyed that they have to do their job, a job that, at that moment, I need. They ride my ass when I'm going to speed limit or not much over it. They hog a view. They are intellectually lazy, not learning anything at all about current events or history. They talk during movies. 

What do I do about such people? Again, I just try to avoid them. Which is difficult, because I can't just get off the public transit bus any time someone is annoying. Or move to get away from an annoying neighbor. But I won't hesitate to cross the street if I see a neighbor coming that I don't like. Or to ask for a refund or a pass at the movies because there is someone who is not going to shut up, and I just don't feel like a confrontation. Or to write a bad review on Yelp. Or to tell an acquaintance that his praise of the supposed medical benefits of cannabis are largely bullshit. 

What I won't do is scream, or yell insults. I'll stay civil - cold, but civil.  

Since November 2016, staying civil has been a big challenge for me. I've struggled with it. And I live in an incredibly unfriendly place where it's not normal for people to say good morning while passing you on the sidewalk - and where it's legal to carry guns opening. The fact is, for five years now, I haven't wanted to be friendly most of the time. And as I watch extremists try to overthrow the government and spread misinformation about a deadly pandemic, as I watch people more concerned about a burned Christmas tree than dead children murdered at their school, as I watch police kill black Americans over and over, I have a strong desire to be uncivil. Destructive, even.    

But I'm coming full circle. I'm looking at the incredible selfishness that has come with the global pandemic and realized we're all doomed if we don't stop thinking only about me and don't start thinking more about we. No one community, no one region, no one country, will every defeat the threats and dangers wrought on the world by COVID-19 - it has to be all of us or none of us. I have to deal with others. They have to deal with others. There's no avoiding it - or, if we do, it's to our ruin. 

I'm renewing my commitment to kindness and civility. That doesn't mean that I won't call out misinformation or racism or violent rhetoric. That doesn't mean I'm going to stop finding people annoying, or even hating people. But I'm going to dig deep and try not to let any of those people change my mind that kindess and civility are rational, sensible ways to live. I may not always be warm and friendly, but I absolutely will be civil. I will not lose my humanity. I will say thank you. I will say hello or good morning or good evening or whatever to someone who is about to provide me with a service. I will open the entrance or exit for others. I will help someone carry something heavy. I will compliment the stranger wearing the fabulous hat. 

But I will still cross the street when I see someone coming towards me I don't want to deal with. And that's okay. 

Also see:

Kindness and community make sense

You are not alone

How are you?

Hope you are vaccinated. 

Have you struggled with having COVID-19 - or perhaps are even still struggling?

Are you trying to convince stubborn family members to get vaccinated?

Are you attending funerals for people who have died from COVID-19?

Are you a flight attendant, a restaurant worker, a grocery worker who is struggling with customers who aren't vaccinated and won't wear masks and seem bent on putting you at risk?

I'm not sure how to console you.

Just know that there are people all over the world who are also struggling, also trying to convince others, also fighting misinformation, also dealing with assholes. 

You aren't alone. And as long as we aren't alone, all is not lost. 

If you can't find others around you physically, go online and find your comrades. 

Stay strong, keep learning. 

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:

• Finding hope
• Magic, Kindness and Hope
• Quotes that comfort
• The power & the glory of hope, WITHOUT a God
• Satanic Suffering
• "Would Satan tempt me through the kindness of macaroni and cheese?"
• The Atheist Response to Tragedy
• Seeking comfort with Mr. Rogers
• Why I love being an atheist