Sitting in a dance hall in Austin, Texas last week, one that I went to more than a few times back in the 1990s, I contemplated hope.
I had several moments of severe hopelessness as a teen. What got me through those times were unexpected, wonderful things: friends I realized loved me fiercely, compliments on my work and character from people I respected and didn't realize I had impressed until that moment, job opportunities and what I call experience opportunities: offers to go to an amazing stage show, or concert, or an invitation to a dinner party that turned out to be full of fascinating people, or being introduced to a beautiful place.
I didn't struggle with hope nearly so much in my 30s and most of my 40s - I felt pretty good those years. My job, my friends and my life experiences all brought me consistent joy. Even in horrible moments - and there were many - I still had hope.
But not now, in my 50s. Not in the last 10 years, in fact. Those things that came my way as a teen and in my 20s that kept me going in those times of severe hopelessness, those things that all brought me consistent joy, haven't been happening much in the last 10 years. I've moved so much I've ended up in a place where none of my friends are nearby, and the state where I live is notoriously unfriendly - 10 years here, I'm still disparaged as an outside. I've struggled with unemployment. Live music performances with terrific musicians and quality sound systems are quite hard to find. Delightfully eccentric, friendly people are hard to find here.
And as I sat in that beloved dance hall in Austin, Texas, feeling oh-so-at home in a building amid a city I could never live in again (too big, too hot, too much traffic), I realized I'm going to have to cultivate hope. I'm going to have to plant seeds and take care of those little seedlings and help them grow. I'm going to have to think of hope as a muscle that needs to be exercised and built. I'm going to have to work at this.
Hope has always been, to me, the belief, the expectation, that good things will happen, that bad things will be overcome, and that joy is always a possibility. But now, I struggle with a belief that bad things will be overcome. I'm not sure anymore. The glee with which children are separated from their parents and put in cages at the border, the glee with which people applaud and cheer as the President lies, disparages people who don't support him, says racist and sexist things and mocks the Rule of Law, the dedication they all have to undo environmental protections that help ALL of us, and future generations, the dedication they have to prevent as many people as possible from voting... glee and dedication that cannot be countered with reason nor compassion... altogether, it has undone most of my hope.
But I can believe, and do believe, that there will always be people who don't want this to happen and are going to put forth effort to counter it, even if they are in the minority. Sometimes they will win, sometimes they will lose. I have control over how I participate in that struggle. And I've asked myself over and over: would you rather be on the "winning" side or the "right" side? And my answer is always the same: I'd rather be on the "losing" side, if that side is the side of compassion and reason. And I don't know why that is, it just is.
I also believe there are still good things in life, like dance halls in Austin, Texas.
So, I'm going to work on cultivating hope. I'm going to read more books (already am, in fact). I'm going to actively look for good people doing good things. I'm going to celebrate even one person I encounter after seeing a thousand cheering fascists. I'm going to celebrate even one person dissenting or questioning. I'm going to look around at the mostly-empty audience space of other people enjoying a concert or movie I'm also enjoying and I'm going to take comfort in however many people are also there. I'm going to walk up to people tabling at street markets and thank them for being there. I'm going to leave poorly-supported, poorly-managed volunteering gigs with no guilt.
And since there aren't dance halls where I live, I'm going to fill my house with music, every day, and my house will be the dance hall I crave. No one can see me in my cowboy boots and hat, dancing with my dog, and even if they could, I don't care.
Thursday, January 23, 2020
Wednesday, January 1, 2020
Happy 2020
When I started this blog, I hoped to be able to write just 52 blogs - one for every week. I thought if I ever reached that milestone, I'd just go back and read a blog a week for the rest of my life - my own weekly sermons.
Well, I now have 157 blogs, more than enough to read one every week for THREE YEARS.
If you have ever been a churchgoer, you know just how often preachers recycle sermons. Some just have one year's worth they trot out year-after-year. And here I am with three year's worth of my own atheist sermons!
The church across the street for me went up for sale last year, and I joked that I was going to buy it and open a Temple of Ethics, Reason & Humanity. Sadly, I didn't have the $1 million to buy the church, and an evangelical group that uses drums in their services bought it. Huge bummer, I know. I didn't have the money - but I had the material!
What to say as I start 2020? I start the year with being happy to not believe in the supernatural, fulfilled and content to live in a universe so much bigger and full of so many more possibilities than anything any religion teaches. I start the year knowing that I have very likely crossed the halfway point in my life, and wanting to make the most out of my very good health and stable economic situation. I start the year hoping I can find the strength to be kind when I don't feel like being kind, to be helpful to others when I really don't feel like being helpful, to work hard when I really don't feel like working hard, because doing those things are necessary to getting through this thing we call life.
Well, I now have 157 blogs, more than enough to read one every week for THREE YEARS.
If you have ever been a churchgoer, you know just how often preachers recycle sermons. Some just have one year's worth they trot out year-after-year. And here I am with three year's worth of my own atheist sermons!
The church across the street for me went up for sale last year, and I joked that I was going to buy it and open a Temple of Ethics, Reason & Humanity. Sadly, I didn't have the $1 million to buy the church, and an evangelical group that uses drums in their services bought it. Huge bummer, I know. I didn't have the money - but I had the material!
What to say as I start 2020? I start the year with being happy to not believe in the supernatural, fulfilled and content to live in a universe so much bigger and full of so many more possibilities than anything any religion teaches. I start the year knowing that I have very likely crossed the halfway point in my life, and wanting to make the most out of my very good health and stable economic situation. I start the year hoping I can find the strength to be kind when I don't feel like being kind, to be helpful to others when I really don't feel like being helpful, to work hard when I really don't feel like working hard, because doing those things are necessary to getting through this thing we call life.
Monday, December 30, 2019
Reflect on your year
How's your year been?
What's given you joy this year?
What's brought you down this year?
Those are three questions I think are good to ask when the year ends - of people you care about and of yourself.
When I ask the question about what gave me joy in a year, I go through my Google calendar, my journal, my blogs and my social media posts, and I make a list - I write it out. And it always turns out that good things happened that I had forgotten: some movie I saw that I found delightful. Some outing I had with someone I hadn't seen in a long while. Some hike. Some one-day motorcycle ride. I find myself thinking over and over again, "Oh yeah, that happened..." I always feel better after I do this, even if the year has been a particularly bad one.
The last question is easier to answer - no need to go looking for what brought me down, because I haven't forgotten most of it. Sometimes I list that too, sometimes not. Sometimes, I have found a list like that in a journal, read through the things, and none of them matter anymore, at all,and that is a comfort - to see that something so dire five years ago doesn't matter now. Or seeing something bad and being reminded that I survived it, that I got through it, even if it left a scar.
I know that our ideas about the start of a year are artificial, entirely man-made: yes, a year is the time the Earth goes around the Sun, that's real, that's not made up, but our starting point is artificially chosen - there's no official start and end time for a year, from a scientific perspective. Humanity could have chosen the year to start at the height of summer's heat in the Northern Hemisphere. It didn't, for logical reasons: new things start at birth, and as we see things being born and reborn all around us in nature as Winter turns to Spring, humanity's choice of when a year stops or starts makes sense.
I like metaphors. I think I especially like them now, as an atheist, far more than in my younger days because, when I was trying to be a Christian in those younger days, the religion was taught to me literally, without many metaphors, and when I realized this, I also realized just how much richer stories are when we see deeper meanings in them, when we look for wisdom, not just rules. I remember as a youth being taught the story of the loaves and fishes, a story mentioned in all four Gospels, as merely a miracle by God on Earth; I was 25 when I heard someone tell the story as an encouragement to share, because if we pool our resources, we have all we need to take care of everyone - and more - and that the acts of young people do matter, can make a difference, are needed. De-emphasizing the divine, the superpower and, instead, looking at the metaphors, the implied lessons, made the story so much more, and I felt much more connected to the storytellers who made up the story, because I think it's the metaphor that was important to them more than the divine.
So I like adhering to the common human practice of seeing the year coming to an end in winter, of thinking of life metaphorically and this marking the end of a chapter, and as it dies out, new things are born, plants are renewed, and maybe I can revitalize in some ways.
Happy Reflecting. Happy New Year.
What's given you joy this year?
What's brought you down this year?
Those are three questions I think are good to ask when the year ends - of people you care about and of yourself.
When I ask the question about what gave me joy in a year, I go through my Google calendar, my journal, my blogs and my social media posts, and I make a list - I write it out. And it always turns out that good things happened that I had forgotten: some movie I saw that I found delightful. Some outing I had with someone I hadn't seen in a long while. Some hike. Some one-day motorcycle ride. I find myself thinking over and over again, "Oh yeah, that happened..." I always feel better after I do this, even if the year has been a particularly bad one.
The last question is easier to answer - no need to go looking for what brought me down, because I haven't forgotten most of it. Sometimes I list that too, sometimes not. Sometimes, I have found a list like that in a journal, read through the things, and none of them matter anymore, at all,and that is a comfort - to see that something so dire five years ago doesn't matter now. Or seeing something bad and being reminded that I survived it, that I got through it, even if it left a scar.
I know that our ideas about the start of a year are artificial, entirely man-made: yes, a year is the time the Earth goes around the Sun, that's real, that's not made up, but our starting point is artificially chosen - there's no official start and end time for a year, from a scientific perspective. Humanity could have chosen the year to start at the height of summer's heat in the Northern Hemisphere. It didn't, for logical reasons: new things start at birth, and as we see things being born and reborn all around us in nature as Winter turns to Spring, humanity's choice of when a year stops or starts makes sense.
I like metaphors. I think I especially like them now, as an atheist, far more than in my younger days because, when I was trying to be a Christian in those younger days, the religion was taught to me literally, without many metaphors, and when I realized this, I also realized just how much richer stories are when we see deeper meanings in them, when we look for wisdom, not just rules. I remember as a youth being taught the story of the loaves and fishes, a story mentioned in all four Gospels, as merely a miracle by God on Earth; I was 25 when I heard someone tell the story as an encouragement to share, because if we pool our resources, we have all we need to take care of everyone - and more - and that the acts of young people do matter, can make a difference, are needed. De-emphasizing the divine, the superpower and, instead, looking at the metaphors, the implied lessons, made the story so much more, and I felt much more connected to the storytellers who made up the story, because I think it's the metaphor that was important to them more than the divine.
So I like adhering to the common human practice of seeing the year coming to an end in winter, of thinking of life metaphorically and this marking the end of a chapter, and as it dies out, new things are born, plants are renewed, and maybe I can revitalize in some ways.
Happy Reflecting. Happy New Year.
Friday, December 6, 2019
calendars & holy days
Christians follow a liturgical calendar based on the supposed life of Jesus Christ, celebrating events like the "Immaculate Conception" of Mary, the divine congratulations to Mary that she was pregnant with Jesus, the birth of Jesus, the Baptism of Jesus, the birth of Jesus (Christmas), etc.
The Hebrew or Jewish calendar compiles the dates for Jewish holidays, for the appropriate public reading of Torah portions and for the undertaking various ceremonies, like Purim, Passover, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, etc.
The Islamic calendar is a lunar calendar compiles the dates for Islamic holidays and associated rituals, like the Islamic New Year, the martyrdom of Husayn ibn Ali, the grandson of Muhammad, and his followers, the birth of the Prophet, the start of Ramadan, the end of Ramadan, the start of Hajj, etc.
Hindus, Buddhists, B'hais, Sikhs and various other religions all have calendars they follow that tell them what ceremony or ritual they need to do when. Some follow a solar calendar and some follow a lunar calendar and some follow a mix of the two.
Do atheists follow a ceremonial calendar? Some do. Many atheists buy a tree for Christmas, both because it's a tradition they grew up with and because the roots of that ritual aren't Christian but, in fact, pagan. Some atheists fast during Ramadan, in solidarity with their family and their community.
Maybe we should also celebrate the days of the week, to demonstrate just how many religions we have abandoned and to remake them into days where we explore scientific wonders and celebrate, and question, humanity:
The Hebrew or Jewish calendar compiles the dates for Jewish holidays, for the appropriate public reading of Torah portions and for the undertaking various ceremonies, like Purim, Passover, Rosh Hashanah, Yom Kippur, etc.
The Islamic calendar is a lunar calendar compiles the dates for Islamic holidays and associated rituals, like the Islamic New Year, the martyrdom of Husayn ibn Ali, the grandson of Muhammad, and his followers, the birth of the Prophet, the start of Ramadan, the end of Ramadan, the start of Hajj, etc.
Hindus, Buddhists, B'hais, Sikhs and various other religions all have calendars they follow that tell them what ceremony or ritual they need to do when. Some follow a solar calendar and some follow a lunar calendar and some follow a mix of the two.
Do atheists follow a ceremonial calendar? Some do. Many atheists buy a tree for Christmas, both because it's a tradition they grew up with and because the roots of that ritual aren't Christian but, in fact, pagan. Some atheists fast during Ramadan, in solidarity with their family and their community.
Maybe we should also celebrate the days of the week, to demonstrate just how many religions we have abandoned and to remake them into days where we explore scientific wonders and celebrate, and question, humanity:
- For Monday, we could celebrate the Moon, since the day is named for the Moon. We could talk about how the moon controls the tides, what happens during lunar eclipse, why there are phases of the moon, and on and on.
- Tuesday is derived from Old English Tiwesdæg and Middle English Tewesday, meaning "Tīw's Day", the day of Tiw or Týr, the god of single combat, and law and justice in Norse mythology. Tiw is equated with Mars, hence the names for this day in other languages: Martes in Spanish, Mardi in French, etc. So, on Tuesday, we talk about the horrors of war and what justice really means and how to pursue it, with reason and ethics.
- Wednesday is derived from Old English and Middle English words that mean "day of Woden", reflecting a pre-Christian religion practiced by the Anglo-Saxon tribes of the region. In other languages, miércoles in Spanish or mercredi in French or mercoledì in Italian, the day's name is for Mercury, God of War. That presents a problem, since we spent Tuesday talking about war. So on Wednesday, let's talk about peace.
- For Thursday, of course, we would celebrate Thor! And as a big fan of Marvel movies, I'm totally down with doing that! We'll all dress like Thor or any member of the Marvel universe.
- For Friday, we would celebrate the "day of Frige", which comes from the Old English Frīġedæġ, or Frīatag in Old High German, or Freitag in Modern German, and vrijdag in Dutch - the result of combining the Old English goddess Frigg with the Roman goddess Venus. Since Venus was the goddess of love, Friday is going to be all about love. And, really, isn't it already?
- For Saturday, we would celebrate "Saturn's Day." I say we talk about why Saturn is the most beautiful planet in the solar system.
- And for Sunday, of course we could celebrate the Sun. We would talk about the Sun in cultural representations, sunspots, how suns are formed, what the gravitational pull of the Sun really means, and on and on.
Saturday, November 23, 2019
Quotes that comfort
I'm not fond of inspirational or motivational posters or memes. They seem as disconnected from reality as some line of comfort from the Bible or Koran, assuring you that God is going to do this or that for you, no really, eventually, but if he doesn't, you know, it's his plan, either way, be grateful, blah blah blah. And that complete disconnect from the real world rubs me the wrong way. To me, supposedly-inspirational quotes are saying, "This horrible thing that's happening to you is bringing people around you down, so cheer up and quit killin' the vibe!"
I have worked in some war-torn countries and with people that have witnessed genocide. I'm friends with some of them on Facebook. And some of those folks LOVE INSPIRATIONAL MEMES. Like this one a friend in Kabul posted recently:
Life is like a camera:
Focus on what's important
Capture the good times
Develop from the negatives
And if things don't work out
Take another shot!
I stared at it, like I stare at all her memes, and other people's memes, and think, really? You, living in a warzone, love these chirpy citations?
I try to be ultra-sensitive in appreciating people's dire pasts and current dire circumstances. I also try so hard to be realistic in my approach to comforting human suffering. I avoid platitudes like the plague for people going through painful times, and certainly for people in a place where there are bombings regularly. Because I know what it's like to be devastated by something and have someone say, "God has you!" or "When a door closes, a window opens" or "the universe has a plan." Those things not only aren't helpful to me, I pretty much want to punch the person who says them.
Yet I also cannot deny that some people LOVE platitudes. And I get it: they affirm what people want to believe is true, and having hope affirmed is a powerful thing, one that can get you through all sorts of horrors. A quote can resolve a dialogue, a debate, that you’re having with yourself - and you may be yearning for such a resolution for that internal debate or questioning, and here's this perfect quote that simplifies your struggle and how to solve it, wrapping the answer up neatly in a well-structured, pithy phrase. Certainly, we all want to believe there is wisdom that can help us through any struggle, and those inspirational quotes can seem like well-established, even long-established wisdom.
I'm not going to talk anyone out of liking quotes that give them comfort, as long as they don't assume others would be comforted by them. God is good, all the time is one of the most offensive things I have EVER heard, as I've said before, and you can keep it to yourself when you're around me, thanks very much. But I'm not going to comment on your inspirational quotes on Facebook - you do you, and if that makes you feel better, that's great.
Do I have quotes I like, that give me comfort? Oh, yes, very much. I like quotes about how nature gives inspiration and comfort. I like quotes from Carl Sagan about the vastness and wonder of the universe. I like quotes about the comfort and joy given to us by music... or dogs.
But one of my favorite quotes is from Mr. Rogers. Freakin' Mr. Rogers. Yes, the television show host. The Presbyterian minister. The devout Christian. And it's that quote about what his mother would say when something horrible happened, like an assignation, or a disaster that killed several people:
“Always look for the helpers,” she’d tell me. “There’s always someone who is trying to help.” I did, and I came to see that the world is full of doctors and nurses, police and firemen, volunteers, neighbors and friends who are ready to jump in to help when things go wrong.
I am comforted by that statement because I want so much to believe that there are people who will ignore what religion or society tells them and, instead, help EVERYONE and ANYONE who is hurting.
I won't mock quotes that give you comfort. Hope you will do the same for me.
I have worked in some war-torn countries and with people that have witnessed genocide. I'm friends with some of them on Facebook. And some of those folks LOVE INSPIRATIONAL MEMES. Like this one a friend in Kabul posted recently:
Life is like a camera:
Focus on what's important
Capture the good times
Develop from the negatives
And if things don't work out
Take another shot!
I stared at it, like I stare at all her memes, and other people's memes, and think, really? You, living in a warzone, love these chirpy citations?
I try to be ultra-sensitive in appreciating people's dire pasts and current dire circumstances. I also try so hard to be realistic in my approach to comforting human suffering. I avoid platitudes like the plague for people going through painful times, and certainly for people in a place where there are bombings regularly. Because I know what it's like to be devastated by something and have someone say, "God has you!" or "When a door closes, a window opens" or "the universe has a plan." Those things not only aren't helpful to me, I pretty much want to punch the person who says them.
Yet I also cannot deny that some people LOVE platitudes. And I get it: they affirm what people want to believe is true, and having hope affirmed is a powerful thing, one that can get you through all sorts of horrors. A quote can resolve a dialogue, a debate, that you’re having with yourself - and you may be yearning for such a resolution for that internal debate or questioning, and here's this perfect quote that simplifies your struggle and how to solve it, wrapping the answer up neatly in a well-structured, pithy phrase. Certainly, we all want to believe there is wisdom that can help us through any struggle, and those inspirational quotes can seem like well-established, even long-established wisdom.
I'm not going to talk anyone out of liking quotes that give them comfort, as long as they don't assume others would be comforted by them. God is good, all the time is one of the most offensive things I have EVER heard, as I've said before, and you can keep it to yourself when you're around me, thanks very much. But I'm not going to comment on your inspirational quotes on Facebook - you do you, and if that makes you feel better, that's great.
Do I have quotes I like, that give me comfort? Oh, yes, very much. I like quotes about how nature gives inspiration and comfort. I like quotes from Carl Sagan about the vastness and wonder of the universe. I like quotes about the comfort and joy given to us by music... or dogs.
But one of my favorite quotes is from Mr. Rogers. Freakin' Mr. Rogers. Yes, the television show host. The Presbyterian minister. The devout Christian. And it's that quote about what his mother would say when something horrible happened, like an assignation, or a disaster that killed several people:
“Always look for the helpers,” she’d tell me. “There’s always someone who is trying to help.” I did, and I came to see that the world is full of doctors and nurses, police and firemen, volunteers, neighbors and friends who are ready to jump in to help when things go wrong.
I am comforted by that statement because I want so much to believe that there are people who will ignore what religion or society tells them and, instead, help EVERYONE and ANYONE who is hurting.
I won't mock quotes that give you comfort. Hope you will do the same for me.
Wednesday, July 10, 2019
Is being an atheist a privilege?
I have many friends who are Christians, Muslims, Buddhists, Bahais and Hindus. I don't try to convert them away from their religions. I wish them happiness on the holidays they celebrate, and I "like" any social media post they make that calls for social justice and criticizes their leaders for not speaking out about human rights, criminal behavior regarding children, etc. But I steer clear of commenting on their posts celebrating how great it is to be whatever religion they are, or how great their God/s is/are. It can be awkward when they get sick and ask for prayers - I can't offer that, and I feel they don't want what I can offer - or when they praise their God instead of the amazing medical care they have received and the scientists who produced the medicine that has made them better. It's most awkward when they post a testimonial of their love of their religions, and a criticism of those that don't believe as they do. Mostly, I ignore those posts.
Recently, a friend posted to a social media platform saying that to be an atheist is to be privileged and that atheists are arrogant and insensitive to ignore/dismiss the comfort and hope the Christian faith gives black Americans especially. I would love to quote the actual, entire post, but hours later, when I went to look for it, it was gone. I guess he realized he was a jerk thing to say and he deleted it. Or he feared what I would say...
But I haven't forgotten.
I most certainly believe being able to publicly declare one's atheism without fear of being fired, ostracized from family, socially excluded or murdered is a privilege. I am reminded of this as I look at the pixelated photos of the members of the Council of Ex-Muslims of Sri Lanka - they meet in secret and share photos on social media where their faces have been altered beyond recognition. Same for the Humanist Society Pakistan in celebrating World Humanist Day on 21 June. They want to let other atheists in their countries know that they are not alone, and maybe let religious people know that atheists are not monsters, but they must do so in very careful ways, to protect their own safety, jobs and families.
Being able to be open about my atheism with friends and neighbors is a privilege I enjoy, but even my privilege is limited: note that I don't use my real name here on this blog, for fear of what it will do to my professional career (though it's not hard at all to figure out who I am).
But is being an atheist only for the privileged? No.
The first thing that came to mind when I read my friend's diatribe was this quote:
"I'm an atheist, and Christianity appears to me to be the most absurd imposture of all the religions, and I'm puzzled that so many people can't see through a religion that encourages irresponsibility and bigotry. As my ancestors are free from slavery, I am free from the slavery of religion." It's from Butterfly Mcqueen, the actress, honored with the 1989 Freethought Heroine Award by the Freedom From Religion Foundation. I've written about her before.
Black American atheists have always been with us, and their words are some of the most important to me, personally, as an atheist. Probably the earliest evidence of atheism and agnosticism among black Americans comes from 19th-century slave narratives - yes, indeed, there were atheists among enslaved people. These are cited by Christopher Cameron, associate professor of history at the University of North Carolina, Charlotte, and the founder and president of the African American Intellectual History Society. He notes that the growth in Black American atheism coincided with the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and ’30s. Atheism and agnosticism have flourished more recently, and as Cameron puts it, "new black atheists are not content to personally reject religion but instead have a goal of spreading freethought to the broader black community. For example, the author Sikivu Hutchinson and the founder of Black Nonbelievers, Mandisa Thomas, argue that religion hurts the black community by promoting sexism, patriarchy and homophobia... These politics demand that black women must be chaste, temperate, industrious and socially conservative. Above all, they must be religious. They must always portray the race in the best light." Cameron also notes that feminism is an essential part of the new black atheists’ humanism, unlike most white atheist "leaders," at least the ones that regularly get cited, and I appreciate that viewpoint in particular. In fact, so much of the leadership I've found among Black American atheists are women, and I find myself following far more of them on social media than the usually cited white atheists "leaders" (all male).
I have been proud to have had the confidence of so many people, of a variety of ethnicities, who want to tell me that, indeed, they are atheists, they do not believe in the religion of their family, and they wish they could be open about it. They are happy to be freed from the mental and emotional limitations of religion, happy to be a part of a universe so much bigger and so much more full of possibilities than any religion has ever described, happy to no longer believe they are being punished or being given some kind of grand lesson as they or those they love suffer, and hopeful for their future as a full, rational human being. I will continue to value their insights and support them, and hope that, some day, they will feel safe enough to declare their belief in reason and the COMFORT they have received by rejecting all ideas of the supernatural, including God.
As the black atheist Sincere Kirabo says of Black Lives Matter: ‘There’s a social activist movement underway continuing the unfinished business of the Civil Rights movement era. Want to make a difference? What we need is grit and involvement in the struggle, not a tribe satisfied with the empty promises of scriptural white noise. Please, for the sake and love of our own futures: abandon your fabled white messiah. Wake up. We are our own salvation.’" Amen.
Recently, a friend posted to a social media platform saying that to be an atheist is to be privileged and that atheists are arrogant and insensitive to ignore/dismiss the comfort and hope the Christian faith gives black Americans especially. I would love to quote the actual, entire post, but hours later, when I went to look for it, it was gone. I guess he realized he was a jerk thing to say and he deleted it. Or he feared what I would say...
But I haven't forgotten.
I most certainly believe being able to publicly declare one's atheism without fear of being fired, ostracized from family, socially excluded or murdered is a privilege. I am reminded of this as I look at the pixelated photos of the members of the Council of Ex-Muslims of Sri Lanka - they meet in secret and share photos on social media where their faces have been altered beyond recognition. Same for the Humanist Society Pakistan in celebrating World Humanist Day on 21 June. They want to let other atheists in their countries know that they are not alone, and maybe let religious people know that atheists are not monsters, but they must do so in very careful ways, to protect their own safety, jobs and families.
Being able to be open about my atheism with friends and neighbors is a privilege I enjoy, but even my privilege is limited: note that I don't use my real name here on this blog, for fear of what it will do to my professional career (though it's not hard at all to figure out who I am).
But is being an atheist only for the privileged? No.
The first thing that came to mind when I read my friend's diatribe was this quote:
"I'm an atheist, and Christianity appears to me to be the most absurd imposture of all the religions, and I'm puzzled that so many people can't see through a religion that encourages irresponsibility and bigotry. As my ancestors are free from slavery, I am free from the slavery of religion." It's from Butterfly Mcqueen, the actress, honored with the 1989 Freethought Heroine Award by the Freedom From Religion Foundation. I've written about her before.
Black American atheists have always been with us, and their words are some of the most important to me, personally, as an atheist. Probably the earliest evidence of atheism and agnosticism among black Americans comes from 19th-century slave narratives - yes, indeed, there were atheists among enslaved people. These are cited by Christopher Cameron, associate professor of history at the University of North Carolina, Charlotte, and the founder and president of the African American Intellectual History Society. He notes that the growth in Black American atheism coincided with the Harlem Renaissance of the 1920s and ’30s. Atheism and agnosticism have flourished more recently, and as Cameron puts it, "new black atheists are not content to personally reject religion but instead have a goal of spreading freethought to the broader black community. For example, the author Sikivu Hutchinson and the founder of Black Nonbelievers, Mandisa Thomas, argue that religion hurts the black community by promoting sexism, patriarchy and homophobia... These politics demand that black women must be chaste, temperate, industrious and socially conservative. Above all, they must be religious. They must always portray the race in the best light." Cameron also notes that feminism is an essential part of the new black atheists’ humanism, unlike most white atheist "leaders," at least the ones that regularly get cited, and I appreciate that viewpoint in particular. In fact, so much of the leadership I've found among Black American atheists are women, and I find myself following far more of them on social media than the usually cited white atheists "leaders" (all male).
I have been proud to have had the confidence of so many people, of a variety of ethnicities, who want to tell me that, indeed, they are atheists, they do not believe in the religion of their family, and they wish they could be open about it. They are happy to be freed from the mental and emotional limitations of religion, happy to be a part of a universe so much bigger and so much more full of possibilities than any religion has ever described, happy to no longer believe they are being punished or being given some kind of grand lesson as they or those they love suffer, and hopeful for their future as a full, rational human being. I will continue to value their insights and support them, and hope that, some day, they will feel safe enough to declare their belief in reason and the COMFORT they have received by rejecting all ideas of the supernatural, including God.
As the black atheist Sincere Kirabo says of Black Lives Matter: ‘There’s a social activist movement underway continuing the unfinished business of the Civil Rights movement era. Want to make a difference? What we need is grit and involvement in the struggle, not a tribe satisfied with the empty promises of scriptural white noise. Please, for the sake and love of our own futures: abandon your fabled white messiah. Wake up. We are our own salvation.’" Amen.
Sunday, February 10, 2019
Why don't I blog more often?
I launched this blog in the Fall of 2010. I've published 153 blogs in that time, including this one that you are reading now. That's more than one a month, on average, though I know I haven't actually blogged once a month.
Faith-based bloggers often produce a new blog once a week. Why don't I?
Faith-based bloggers often produce a new blog once a week. Why don't I?
I thought about making that a goal. But, honestly, to what end? A faith-based blogger is writing to try to win new converts and/or keep the converts they have among their readers. I'm not trying to convince anyone to abandon their religion. Rather, I'm trying to give inspiration and comfort to those who are atheists and are feeling uncomfortable within their family or community, or to those who are realizing they don't have the faith that's necessary for the religion they have been in, perhaps from birth, and are wondering what life as an atheist will be like. I want this blog to help atheists feel good about their identity, particularly if they are in an unsupportive, even dangerous, environment.
I also think many atheists are discouraged from the desire for inspiration and curiosity and fellowship, as though the state of bliss that can come from human pursuits is somehow wrong to desire and seek. Is it because of the phrasing we use to talk about this - food for the soul - as most of us don't believe in a soul? I don't know. But I do know I love to be inspired, and I want to help other atheists feed this desire, celebrate it, and pursue it. For those who also desire that inspiration, I write this blog.
I take my muse tag very seriously: I'm here to inspire, regarding history, science, nature, the written word, dancing, poetry, humanity, philosophy, life in general... yes, muse comes from Greek and Roman mythology, from religions abandoned long ago. I love my ironic moniker!
I blog when I have something to say, and I don't always have something to day, not once a week, and sometimes, not even once a month. Other times, I have a LOT to say. Very often, I write two or three blogs at once sitting, and then space them out to be published weeks apart.
I also think many atheists are discouraged from the desire for inspiration and curiosity and fellowship, as though the state of bliss that can come from human pursuits is somehow wrong to desire and seek. Is it because of the phrasing we use to talk about this - food for the soul - as most of us don't believe in a soul? I don't know. But I do know I love to be inspired, and I want to help other atheists feed this desire, celebrate it, and pursue it. For those who also desire that inspiration, I write this blog.
I take my muse tag very seriously: I'm here to inspire, regarding history, science, nature, the written word, dancing, poetry, humanity, philosophy, life in general... yes, muse comes from Greek and Roman mythology, from religions abandoned long ago. I love my ironic moniker!
I blog when I have something to say, and I don't always have something to day, not once a week, and sometimes, not even once a month. Other times, I have a LOT to say. Very often, I write two or three blogs at once sitting, and then space them out to be published weeks apart.
I don't know how long I'll keep producing new blogs, but if you are new to this blog, I strongly encourage you start reading my blogs from when I started in November 2010. By the time you have read them all, I'll probably have a new one waiting for you.
There are 52 weeks in the year. Were I a Christian preacher, that would require I write 52 sermons a year, and then start recycling them annually. If you have attended one church regularly, as I did in my youth, you know that there are many ministers out there that have just 52 sermons and they push the repeat button at the start of each year, as well as recycling special occasion sermons for weddings, funerals and other ceremonies. There's nothing quite like hearing a preacher give a sermon that you think is so personal and appropriate at a family members funeral, being so moved at it, and then hearing that exact same sermon months later at someone else's funeral...
I've hit 52 original blogs long ago. Twice that is 104. Three times that is 156. Just three more blogs and I'll have enough to present a new blog post as my sermon to my imaginary atheist congregation for three years, without repeating. Maybe I should make my goal 365 blog posts - and produce a book, ala the daily devotionals some of my Christian family members dutifully read every day over breakfast.
Hope you are having a good 2019 and, if you aren't, I hope you have the resources and will to make it better.
Hope you are having a good 2019 and, if you aren't, I hope you have the resources and will to make it better.
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