Only One World

Howdy, Christians. I know you're out there, reading this blog. Some of you are even commenting on it. So far I have been called "thought-provoking" and even "pleasant." Thank you, really. I do try. The thought-provoking part comes pretty easily, as I have always had a rather twisted view of the world, but the pleasant part is harder, of course, but just as important. Plenty of people on both sides of the fence, believers or not, spend way too much time posturing themselves as The Final Authority on whatever matter. The result looks something like gang warfare, with people puffing their chests at each other like animals, then hurling, instead of rocks or bullets, "logical" formulations regarding this or that highly emotionally charged issue.

Certainly, I think religious belief is misdirected and a tragic misuse of resources. Yes, I think a whole lot of religious people are just plain jerks. Absolutely, I am an atheist with no interest in reclaiming the Christian heritage into which I was born and by which I was raised. But even as I shake my head at religion, I cannot ignore all the people who perpetuate it. Here is where things get tricky, my Christian friends, so try to hang with what I'm saying. Maybe I think your beliefs are totally looney, but I cannot and will not deny your right to have them, because I know that inside those praying, worshipping, Bible-toting bodies, you're basically just like me. We live in the same world, with the same basic needs (as the California 4th grade science curriculum puts it, the five basic needs of animals are oxygen, water, food, shelter, and an environment).

Having atheists and theists in the same world--as neighbors and coworkers and friends and fellow community members--can be tricky. Sometimes it seems like we're in different worlds. But we're all responding to the same stimuli. We all need each other, we all have to worry about our inner lives and about our behavior around others, and we all have to learn how to exist in a world where we would like nothing more than to relax and take it easy, but where circumstances just won't allow it. We all have emotions and stress, we all fall in love and get angry. Most of us enjoy ice cream now and then, and time with (well-behaved) children. But some of us believe that the whole scheme of life locks into a theological over-story (or "metanarrative," if you prefer), while others of us have no such belief, and take the world and our lives in it as accidents of the most glorious kind.

Then there's the afterlife. Some people think I am going to hell. I know that for a fact. It's a curious thing to me, since, as a non-believer, I am not afraid of hell or any other afterlife, so the stress is all on their side. They can worry all they want about my eternal soul, but I don't even believe I have one, so I don't see what good it does them. I guess they could try to convince me that I have a soul, but that's going to be pretty tough, as no one has yet devised a way to detect souls and thereby prove their existence.

Some people have claimed that people like me don't even exist. That's a fun one, when some smart-guy Joe Christian comes up to me and tries to prove that I don't really think what I say I think, and must be some kind of liar. "You're not an atheist, because by throwing out god as your ultimate authority, you replace him yourself and become your own god, so you don't really not believe in god, because you believe yourself to be like god." Well, there is some level of truth in that, from a purely immanent perspective. When I tossed out my faith in god, all those functions that god once allegedly performed for me--giving love and comfort and guidance all that jazz--I had to start doing for myself. (Turns out it was easier to be my own god than to keep weeping on my knees for some other god to get his act together and help me out. Moral of the story: get your own act together.) However, even as an atheist, I do not see myself at the top of existence, as the final authority or arbiter on anything. Just like you Christians, I am subject to powers greater than myself, from the federal government to the weather and beyond.

We really have a lot in common, actually, believers and non-believers. Nobody wants to say it, though, because if we did that, then everyone would have to pull back from the conflict and admit that we're really just perpetuating a false dichotomy in the human experience. Yes, a false dichotomy. We all get sick, we all pay bills, we all eat food, we all get horny, we all get sad sometimes, we all have problems, we all make problems, and so on, ad infinitum. There is no measurable difference of humanity between believers and non-believers.

Sure, we disagree on stuff. I think "under God" doesn't belong in the Pledge of Allegiance, that abortion ought to be legal and regulated (to keep it safe, because people are going to do it anyway), that human cloning is not evil, that stem cells are not human beings (look at the pictures, people--they're just clumps of cells), that prayer does not belong in schools or in civic rituals, that homosexuals should be allowed to get married, and that religion is a massive waste of time and money.

But that's just politics. In the real world, if my Christian neighbor needs help, I'm not an atheist and he's not a Christian--we're just people. Sometimes I think Christians forget that, especially when they're trying extra hard not to. You know, when they go out doing good deeds for people, and trying to help in the community--except they just can't manage to do it without adding a promo spot for their god or their denomination or their particular take on the metaphysics of existence. A good deed is nice, and helping people is wonderful, but when you come to me with kindness and then take the opportunity to remind me that you're some kind of emissary from your god, you only drive home the fact that you're not acting out of goodwill for humanity, but out of service to the Idea of your religion. You aren't serving me--you're serving your beliefs. Somehow, I don't think that's what Jesus meant by the foot washing thing.

So, Christian friends. Let the dialogue continue.