It's a little thing, really. A personal pet peeve. One that shouldn't bother me nearly no much as the oft-misstated "Elementary, my dear Watson"s, "Beam me up, Scotty"s, and "Play it again, Sam"s of the world. (Note to future screenwriters everywhere: none of those lines were ever spoken by their ascribed iconic characters, and therefore cannot be quoted. So, for the sake of my sanity. Stop doing it.) Still, I can count almost daily -- sometimes by the dozens -- the number of times someone refers to a book in the bible that.... does not exist. You hear it on TV. On street corners. Even on movies, where you know that hundreds to thousands of separate individuals must have passed over this little inaccuracy either without noticing, or without knowing the difference.
Call it a public service. More accurately, call it a trivial, OCD-induced rant from a former librarian who will likely conclude this post with a childish snort and a grab for the last piece of Christmas fudge. Still, I feel compelled to at least put it out there.
The last book in the Bible is not Revelations. It's Revelation. Just one. Not plural. No "s".
As I said, it's a little thing. But it drives my poor, compulsive senses absolutely bat-shit. Seriously, it's worse than nails on a chalk board, or biting into tin foil. I view it the way a dog views a vacuum. It's that bad. So if you really feel the need to quote from this particular codex, at least quote it correctly. Please?
Thank you.
I'ma go see about that fudge, now.
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
19. An Atheist's Christmas Prayer
For weeks now, we’ve all shared a similar American experience. Crowded stores and rushed traffic pacified only by lamppost holiday lights and random greeting cards from those relatives we’d all but forgotten we had. Spirits lifted by music and familial warmth, we avoid caloric overload as best we can. Spirits dampened by thoughts of those who are no longer here to share in our oddly-enjoyable hysteria, we make a hog-like mess of the divinity and peanut brittle on our collective countertops. Some of us -- (me) -- even spend the entire season pointedly wearing Santa hats and adorning our shoes with jingly bells.
Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.
That’s right. Odd as it may seem for Little-Miss-Atheist, the Christmas season is my favorite time of year. Bar none. It’s a holiday that transforms my house into a very interesting place, to put it mildly. My sweet husband tolerates my compulsive need for round-the-clock Christmas carols – largely by vacating the house as much as possible. My son alternates between relieved and terrified that his mother has suddenly become the cheeriest woman on the block. I smile more. I bake more. And, believe it or not, I sing the religious hymns as loudly and as gleefully as every reindeer and Santa mash-up that dashes its way across the radio.
That said, I’ve been sitting on this post for weeks. Partly because I wasn’t sure how to address the topic without sounding dry or self-indulgent. Mostly because I didn’t know whether I had anything to contribute to what has apparently become a controversial subject; and even if I did… whether or not I could adequately express my feelings is another matter entirely.
We all know by now (or at least, we damn well SHOULD) that winter festivals have occurred throughout recorded history; longer, unless I miss my guess. Today we call it Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa. Yesterday we called it Yule, Epiphany, or Saturnalia. Whether it’s a preparation for Wild Hunt, a hopeful salute to the season’s Solstice, a visit from the magi, or even an old Norse feast marked by the sacrificial bloodletting of horses and cattle – the lore and legends are meant to inspire hope for the future, a bit of warmth to pull us through the long nights and harsh weather. Gathering together to consolidate our status as a family, or a community, or a society is a profoundly human need. A deeply-rooted desire that, when fulfilled, leaves us renewed and emotionally capable of moving forward.
In our fledgling years as a civilization, it is events like these that quite literally kept us alive – simply by keeping us together. What happened, then, to turn it into a month-long effort to pull us apart?
Every year, opinion pages, blogs, and announcements across America light up with people desperate to take sides; erecting walls between “Merry Christmas” and “Happy Holidays”, decorated trees and interpretations of tradition. People yell. People push and defend. Turning it into a private war rather than a public celebration.
Again, I have to ask…. What happened?
There is an easy answer, of course. But it is… too easy. I gain nothing from it and neither do you.
So instead, to bridge the gap, to take my small step toward the world peace being wistfully sung for on iPods the nation over, I – an outspoken atheist, rationalist, and skeptic – want to send this small Christmas prayer into the electronic void, not expecting any response. Not really expecting anyone to understand. But hoping I’m wrong on both counts.
Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it.
That’s right. Odd as it may seem for Little-Miss-Atheist, the Christmas season is my favorite time of year. Bar none. It’s a holiday that transforms my house into a very interesting place, to put it mildly. My sweet husband tolerates my compulsive need for round-the-clock Christmas carols – largely by vacating the house as much as possible. My son alternates between relieved and terrified that his mother has suddenly become the cheeriest woman on the block. I smile more. I bake more. And, believe it or not, I sing the religious hymns as loudly and as gleefully as every reindeer and Santa mash-up that dashes its way across the radio.
That said, I’ve been sitting on this post for weeks. Partly because I wasn’t sure how to address the topic without sounding dry or self-indulgent. Mostly because I didn’t know whether I had anything to contribute to what has apparently become a controversial subject; and even if I did… whether or not I could adequately express my feelings is another matter entirely.
We all know by now (or at least, we damn well SHOULD) that winter festivals have occurred throughout recorded history; longer, unless I miss my guess. Today we call it Christmas, Hanukkah, or Kwanzaa. Yesterday we called it Yule, Epiphany, or Saturnalia. Whether it’s a preparation for Wild Hunt, a hopeful salute to the season’s Solstice, a visit from the magi, or even an old Norse feast marked by the sacrificial bloodletting of horses and cattle – the lore and legends are meant to inspire hope for the future, a bit of warmth to pull us through the long nights and harsh weather. Gathering together to consolidate our status as a family, or a community, or a society is a profoundly human need. A deeply-rooted desire that, when fulfilled, leaves us renewed and emotionally capable of moving forward.
In our fledgling years as a civilization, it is events like these that quite literally kept us alive – simply by keeping us together. What happened, then, to turn it into a month-long effort to pull us apart?
Every year, opinion pages, blogs, and announcements across America light up with people desperate to take sides; erecting walls between “Merry Christmas” and “Happy Holidays”, decorated trees and interpretations of tradition. People yell. People push and defend. Turning it into a private war rather than a public celebration.
Again, I have to ask…. What happened?
There is an easy answer, of course. But it is… too easy. I gain nothing from it and neither do you.
So instead, to bridge the gap, to take my small step toward the world peace being wistfully sung for on iPods the nation over, I – an outspoken atheist, rationalist, and skeptic – want to send this small Christmas prayer into the electronic void, not expecting any response. Not really expecting anyone to understand. But hoping I’m wrong on both counts.
This Christmas, I pray that the struggle over the “true meaning” of the holiday is wiped away, replaced by the desire to honor what Christmas means to you and not to your neighbors.
I pray that we as a nation can learn to put aside the party lines and shields of segregation to leave the world better than we found it.
I pray that we as a race can learn to prosper without greed, without indifference.
I pray that the good times outweigh the bad, and that we enter the lives of those we are lucky enough to encounter with the grace and respect that everyone deserves, regardless of their status, regardless of our creed.
I pray we wake up one day with the recognition that – black or white, rich or poor, religious or not – we all want the same things, even if we disagree on how best to achieve them.
I pray that those who need shelter will find it.
I pray that those in pain will find an end to suffering.
I pray for peace.
I pray for hope.
Most of all, I pray that tomorrow will be better than it was today.
For all of us.
I pray that we as a nation can learn to put aside the party lines and shields of segregation to leave the world better than we found it.
I pray that we as a race can learn to prosper without greed, without indifference.
I pray that the good times outweigh the bad, and that we enter the lives of those we are lucky enough to encounter with the grace and respect that everyone deserves, regardless of their status, regardless of our creed.
I pray we wake up one day with the recognition that – black or white, rich or poor, religious or not – we all want the same things, even if we disagree on how best to achieve them.
I pray that those who need shelter will find it.
I pray that those in pain will find an end to suffering.
I pray for peace.
I pray for hope.
Most of all, I pray that tomorrow will be better than it was today.
For all of us.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
18. "I Got F#@&in' No Dukes."
There can be no doubt that a schism exists in America between backers of evidence and supporters of a certain religious philosophy – almost to the point that either of them can be caricaturized, labeled with stickers reading “science” and “god,” and released like monstrous mutts into the populace, squelching all opportunities for advancement with needless conversation and easily-raised ire. After a time, the resulting splash damage leads otherwise rational people to build a wall between themselves and what they are willing to believe.
Here I am on the tail end of several evolutionary theory-themed posts, knowing they won’t be the last, and wondering whether evidence for its own sake is enough to turn the tide on this conversation. Because even though I, like Kathy Griffin, find it increasingly bizarre that fact is somehow subject to philosophy in our corner of the world; I recognize, having been raised in an acutely religious environment, the threat that is posed by alternate, more plausible, explanations of origin. It isn’t so much that science labels these explanatory models as “theories” opening the argument to semantics, nor is it that the scientific method forces an honesty that leaves us shying away from treating them as absolutes. The problem is posed by the evidence itself. The mere existence of fact and information undermines the bible’s efficacy – something that doesn’t sit well with a large percentage of American citizens. So we have edited text books, teachers who enter into lawsuits rather than support a non-religious version of history, and teachers as targets of parental disgust for doing the opposite. We have moderate proponents arguing that both sides are viable in the classroom, while others see that with a tad less... shall we say, optimism:
By now, both sides have reason to bury their heads in the sand and stay there until the storm dies down – something that doesn’t look likely to happen any time soon.
I can’t help but wonder whether this scene is playing out in other nations as well. Likely, it isn’t occurring to this degree.
The real question I suppose is: can all of this be avoided? Possibly. Like most individuals, rationalists have no beef with the personal opinions and philosophies of others. What others chose to teach their children in the privacy of their own home may be a subject of some irritation, but for the most part, it has little bearing on the global field of understanding. It is when an archaic belief system is allowed to dictate public policy and the course of education that ignoring the storm ceases to be an option.
Neil deGrasse Tyson said, "I, like Ptolemy, am humbled in the presence of our clockwork universe. When I am on the cosmic frontier, and I touch the laws of physics with my pen, or when I look upon the endless sky from an observatory on a mountaintop, I well up with an admiration for its splendor. But I do so knowing and accepting that if I propose a God beyond that horizon, one who graces our valley of collective ignorance, the day will come when our sphere of knowledge will have grown so large that I will have no need of that hypothesis."
Such an articulate and beautiful sentiment. Would that it could be shared by everyone.
Here I am on the tail end of several evolutionary theory-themed posts, knowing they won’t be the last, and wondering whether evidence for its own sake is enough to turn the tide on this conversation. Because even though I, like Kathy Griffin, find it increasingly bizarre that fact is somehow subject to philosophy in our corner of the world; I recognize, having been raised in an acutely religious environment, the threat that is posed by alternate, more plausible, explanations of origin. It isn’t so much that science labels these explanatory models as “theories” opening the argument to semantics, nor is it that the scientific method forces an honesty that leaves us shying away from treating them as absolutes. The problem is posed by the evidence itself. The mere existence of fact and information undermines the bible’s efficacy – something that doesn’t sit well with a large percentage of American citizens. So we have edited text books, teachers who enter into lawsuits rather than support a non-religious version of history, and teachers as targets of parental disgust for doing the opposite. We have moderate proponents arguing that both sides are viable in the classroom, while others see that with a tad less... shall we say, optimism:
By now, both sides have reason to bury their heads in the sand and stay there until the storm dies down – something that doesn’t look likely to happen any time soon.
I can’t help but wonder whether this scene is playing out in other nations as well. Likely, it isn’t occurring to this degree.
The real question I suppose is: can all of this be avoided? Possibly. Like most individuals, rationalists have no beef with the personal opinions and philosophies of others. What others chose to teach their children in the privacy of their own home may be a subject of some irritation, but for the most part, it has little bearing on the global field of understanding. It is when an archaic belief system is allowed to dictate public policy and the course of education that ignoring the storm ceases to be an option.
Neil deGrasse Tyson said, "I, like Ptolemy, am humbled in the presence of our clockwork universe. When I am on the cosmic frontier, and I touch the laws of physics with my pen, or when I look upon the endless sky from an observatory on a mountaintop, I well up with an admiration for its splendor. But I do so knowing and accepting that if I propose a God beyond that horizon, one who graces our valley of collective ignorance, the day will come when our sphere of knowledge will have grown so large that I will have no need of that hypothesis."
Such an articulate and beautiful sentiment. Would that it could be shared by everyone.
Friday, July 3, 2009
Wednesday, July 1, 2009
16. This just in...
The Other Closet has been added to The Atheist Blogroll. You can see the blogroll in my sidebar. The Atheist blogroll is a community building service provided free of charge to Atheist bloggers from around the world. If you would like to join, visit Mojoey at Deep Thoughts for more information.
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
15. A Million Monkeys and Youtube Contributions
Every so often, tumbling through the "series of tubes" that (everyone knows) comprises the internet, I come across a site or a video that very accurately portrays the typical arguments posed by theists with regards to atheism. This one, for example:
Then comes the age-old question, the pivotal choice between responding to the daisy chain of logical fallacies, or simply bemoaning our educational system for allowing these tragedies to occur. Since I don't possess the tolerance for trolls and link-spams (not to mention creepy-dim lighting, or a spastic webcam), I'll likely never join the Youtube bandwagon. But I'm fairly certain that's why Al Gore invented blogs.
The Anti-Atheist Argument, Deconstructed:
[0:00 -- 0:50] Mentions the "creation" of the universe in conjunction with the "creation" of Earth/planets/humans, ignoring correlation or the passage of time. In cosmological terms, Earth is only a recent addition to the universe -- and the development of Homo Sapiens might as well have happened this morning. Darwin's "fairy tale" bears no connection whatsoever to the origin of planets.
But here's the overall issue with this video -- apart from the many flaws listed above, of course -- it seems to argue that atheism is somehow contingent on the truth of evolution as a theory. If that were even remotely the case, my blog would state little enough to nothing, because I'd be leaving the issue to geneticists, paleontologists, and... people like Kirk Cameron. (Oh dear. We'd best not venture there, even on a sarcastic basis.) My atheism came from reason, and from an understanding of religious history. My husband's arose from the realization that 99% of the world's religions have been banished as myths, though once were followed as vigorously as today's theists follow Christianity, Islam, or Judaic beliefs. Many atheists have come to the conclusion philosophically, still others, for emotional and moral reasons. In terms of deconstructing atheism, every argument offered can only be... woefully inadequate.
Proving evolution does indeed discredit the accounts in the bible as accurate portrayals of origin. And much of the world, the one that exists beyond American borders, has already recognized and accepted those inaccuracies. But disproving evolution doesn't point to the existence, or even the rational justification, of a god.
Then comes the age-old question, the pivotal choice between responding to the daisy chain of logical fallacies, or simply bemoaning our educational system for allowing these tragedies to occur. Since I don't possess the tolerance for trolls and link-spams (not to mention creepy-dim lighting, or a spastic webcam), I'll likely never join the Youtube bandwagon. But I'm fairly certain that's why Al Gore invented blogs.
The Anti-Atheist Argument, Deconstructed:
[0:00 -- 0:50] Mentions the "creation" of the universe in conjunction with the "creation" of Earth/planets/humans, ignoring correlation or the passage of time. In cosmological terms, Earth is only a recent addition to the universe -- and the development of Homo Sapiens might as well have happened this morning. Darwin's "fairy tale" bears no connection whatsoever to the origin of planets.
[0:58] This quote of evolutionary theory having “done nothing to help the progress of science” is not only a ludicrous thing to say – its source could not be located. I did scrounge up a quote stating that no single theory can be credited with the progression of science, rather that science is furthered by the accumulation of theories that continue to hold water. Possibly misconstrued quote-mining. Either way, an argument via slogan isn't a valid one.
[1:06] Darwin “wasn’t a scientist?” Curious as to the definition here. In terms of practice, he was the scientific method personified. If you’re speaking in terms of education, Darwin began his college studies in the field of medicine – and only left to study theology because he couldn’t stomach the era’s surgical procedures. It should also bears mentioning: he was indeed a minister, once. He didn't die as one. Wonder why that is....? Hmm. *Cheeky Eye Roll*
[1:22] “I’m gonna create my own theory.” The theory was a product of observation, recording, and study across many years – and a shared pursuit of several scientists at the time. (Wallace, for one – who published similar papers immediately following Darwin's.) It was not a willful attempt at rebellion, and struggling to paint it as such does nothing to further your argument. Whether or not his theory coincided with the notion of god was a very personal battle for him, one that lasted for a great many years. In the end, he realized that beliefs should be molded to the facts, not the other way around.
[1:38] “Threw out some queries.” Oh dear. A scientist being humble. For shame. 150 years of hardcore testing and evidence-investigation, and the ideas, along with their explanatory and predictive capabilities, still hold true. Very few “ideas and queries” can be said to have remained as congruent.
[1:53] Making a religion of Darwin’s dangerous idea. This one rears its ugly head a lot with regards to evolution. A puzzling method of attack, and one that may well be unique to America. Religious crowds do not ever accuse backers of gravitational theory, germ theory, or the theory of plate-tectonics (i.e. – nearly… everyone) as being followers of a “religion”. Odd, that.
[1:59] “Hope?” … Again, I find myself puzzled. Following the evidence. Has nothing to do with personal desire. This may underpin an important distinction between brain types as well. The ability to separate your own impressions and beliefs from your scientific observations is crucial to the integrity of knowledge.
[2:12] “There should be evidence.” YES! Exactly, there definitely should! And there definitely is. Libraries-worth of documented, verified evidence.
[2:40] “No transitional forms?” You’re…. you’re kidding on this one, right? Because EVERY bone and fossil found has fit in perfectly with evolutionary theory. Every one. http://www.talkorigins.org/faqs/faq-transitional.html Some have even been predicted by evolutionary theory PRIOR to being discovered. http://chem.tufts.edu/AnswersInScience/evo_science.html So, please tell me you’re kidding, ‘cause… ‘Cause I’ve no hope for my son’s education if you’re not.
[3:14] “Leave MY theory alone!” Hey, now. You started it. Besides, you’re kinda forcing us to be cruel on this one. You’re willfully choosing to remain in the dark with regards to the facts, and you're using scientific vernacular as though it holds the same meaning in lay-speak. It doesn’t. In scientific terms, the “fact” label is not an easy thing to come by. The transition from “idea” to “hypothesis” to “theory” can take decades, even centuries to achieve. Larger explanatory models have always been – and may always be – dubbed as “theories”. Theories are comprised of facts, proven-viable, tested, peer-reviewed, and re-tested. They have to stand up in the face of everything we know concerning the workings of the world. The evidence gathered in the wake of proposed theories MUST support the theory, else it does not SURVIVE as a theory. Evolution as an ongoing process is a fact. It is observable. It is verifiable. It is in yer face. Evolution as origin will likely always be called a theory, because science has a higher standard than the world at large. God, however, cannot maintain his efficacy beyond the “hypothesis” stage. I cannot leave your theory alone. Because you do not have one.
[3:44] “Lucy fraud” – The knee-joint claim is an empty accusation. Zero controversy exists here. “Nebraska man” was more likely to have been a mistake than a fraud, classification was given in 1922 and was corrected in 1925 – not by god, but by scientists who continued researching the claim even after making it. Highlighting again the superior methods of science vs. religion, where evidence is valued over belief. None of the examples here cast any doubt whatsoever on evolution -- dealing solely with human ancestry, which branch fits where, and whatnot. You will see shown in the image below a current listing for these known branches, each of which are filled to the frothing brim with fossils and full skeletons (many numbering well into the hundreds) proving their efficacy.
[3:48] Far from being an example of “terrible science” – is a shining example of how the scientific method reveals the truth.
[4:02] “Make the choice to let go of evidence.” Ah, the heart of theism, summed in a sentence. Brought a tear to my eye.
[5:05] “Are you willing to let go of it, if it isn’t true?” Absolutely. In a second. And every atheist, skeptic, and scientist alike will say the same. Our only interest is in understanding the world for what it is, not what we wish it to be. Give us the evidence, the theories will duke it out on a national, public stage, winner-take-all while the loser is stricken from the text books. Intelligent Design, which I’m guessing you may well support, tried its hand at this. But again, ID isn’t a theory. It’s a failed hypothesis.
[5:17] Nobel. Pronounced no-bell. Not… noble.
[5:55] Design from complexity, and the notion of randomness. Ugh. By this point, I just want to pat the poor video on its exploiting-failures-of-perception-as-justification-for-ludicrous-notions head. We evolved to see patterns where none exist, and to ascribe human characteristics, or purpose-driven descriptions to inanimate things. It happens to the best of us. Read the following, and we’ll talk again, mkay?
[6:27] The "cell is absolutely useless if the information varies?" WHAT? Oh my. *Vigorously Refers Speaker to Afore-Mentioned Books*
[6:48] Pointing to the “impossibility” (think she means to say “improbability”) of chance. Three issues here – well, actually FAR more than two, but I’m trying to be concise. One) natural selection is the furthest thing from accidental occurrences. Two) backwards calculations of statistical probabilities nearly always yield borderline-impossible results – even when there AREN’T a vast number of glaringly obvious inaccuracies to fuel them, as with your Kinko’s/NYC comparison. Three) if the whole of the debate hinges on likelihoods, Occam's Razor clearly favors science here. The odds that all the rules of nature have unknowingly been suspended in order to allow for a supernatural deity of ANY sort, let alone your particular version of a praise-worthy deity, are... improbable.
[7:30 – 8:58] This one has become a slogan in its own right. Yay for irreducible complexity! Yay for debunked, bogus notions! But no, seriously, yay for the science that blows this shit out of the water. The flagellum described here? Not irreducibly complex. Nothing is.
[8:58 – 10:32] Ayup, I know. You don’t like us, and you don’t like our silly reliance on evidence and reason. We get that.
But here's the overall issue with this video -- apart from the many flaws listed above, of course -- it seems to argue that atheism is somehow contingent on the truth of evolution as a theory. If that were even remotely the case, my blog would state little enough to nothing, because I'd be leaving the issue to geneticists, paleontologists, and... people like Kirk Cameron. (Oh dear. We'd best not venture there, even on a sarcastic basis.) My atheism came from reason, and from an understanding of religious history. My husband's arose from the realization that 99% of the world's religions have been banished as myths, though once were followed as vigorously as today's theists follow Christianity, Islam, or Judaic beliefs. Many atheists have come to the conclusion philosophically, still others, for emotional and moral reasons. In terms of deconstructing atheism, every argument offered can only be... woefully inadequate.
Proving evolution does indeed discredit the accounts in the bible as accurate portrayals of origin. And much of the world, the one that exists beyond American borders, has already recognized and accepted those inaccuracies. But disproving evolution doesn't point to the existence, or even the rational justification, of a god.
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
14. Silly social movements -- labels are for kids.
Recently, I watched a video of the presentations given at the 2007 AAI Convention, and was pleasantly surprised (though I probably shouldn’t have been) by the ever-contrary nature of Sam Harris’ speech. In it, he very honestly asked us – as atheists – to question the wisdom of outwardly calling ourselves “atheists”. For the large-and-growing movement of reason and science to advance in the rapid way that it should, he proposed, we needed to circumvent the prepared arguments, the prejudices, and the blatantly-oppositional propaganda that seems to crop up whenever the world at large hears that particular term.
Wha---huh?!? Not call ourselves “atheists”? After all this time, all of these efforts in trying to draw our neighbors-in-arms (or at least, in-philosophy) from the shadows? I was confounded. I was chagrined.
And, from a societal standpoint, I agreed with him.
More than once, I’ve listed here the ways in which that one little word can hamper a conversation – or, indeed – a relationship. To say nothing of an entire social movement. He was justified in pointing out the sticky truth, which is: to an adamant believer, the term is more than a stumbling block… it’s code for “DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER! Executing terminal shutdown of all input capabilities!” (… A little much? Yeah, you’re probably right.) Besides, we don’t deign to give ourselves labels with regards to our belief in fairies or unicorns, Thor or Apollo – and doing so when it comes to today’s brand of mysticism seems to lend it an odd sort of credence. Einstein never referred to himself as an atheist, though for all intents and purposes he was one, because (he once stated) he didn’t quite share their “fervor” when it came to open conversation or religious debunking. And, it should be said, Mr. Harris himself has managed to bend many an ear to our cause without ever having called himself an "atheist" either.
But then again…
I have only my own experiences to draw from. As you know by now, I am little more than a housewife in a back-water section of the world, surrounded by people whose religious tolerances (or lack thereof) would just as soon see me tarred as glance my way; and that may well have tarnished my perspective of the issue – giving me a belief that wouldn’t survive a transition to the national stage. But when it came to a mirror-facing throw-down with myself as to whether or not I stood with Mr. Harris… I was forced to realize that I didn’t.
For many years, I shied away from calling myself an atheist. And for those many years, I didn’t have the conversations I should have been having. My religious friends and family approached my non-religious nature the same way a Lakers fan might address someone who’s just not that into sports: “no biggie, pick another topic of conversation, she’s not really… NOT religious – she just ain’t settled in to the right church yet.” Even putting forth my meager arguments as I did, absent the “OMG, NOOOO” label (as I’m pretty certain some would call it), my views seemed to lack the weight of… I’ll call it sincerity, for I can’t seem to dredge up a better word at the moment. Absent atheism, the person-to-person world didn’t seem to think I was all that invested. But by sporting the title, I somehow opened the floodgates and thereby the lines of communication. Those same friends and family began defending their views in earnest. Books were exchanged, debates were held, and (very occasionally) I’d earn the satisfaction of knowing someone’s perspective of atheism had been altered for the better.
Strangely, and happily, I like atheism. I like calling myself an atheist. I like knowing that the world, and maybe even our religious nation, are on the verge of accepting the novel notion that maybe we aren’t what we’ve seemed, from the other side of historical-biases. And, even after an honest and careful consideration of this argument, I can stand by my self-affirmation – and my call to you, and to those who share your views, to declare yourselves as I have – with something approaching… confidence.
The advancement of reason, of evidence, of fact-based intelligence, needs our support. And, if I may venture to say as much Mr. Einstein, I think the world needs our fervor, too.
Wha---huh?!? Not call ourselves “atheists”? After all this time, all of these efforts in trying to draw our neighbors-in-arms (or at least, in-philosophy) from the shadows? I was confounded. I was chagrined.
And, from a societal standpoint, I agreed with him.
More than once, I’ve listed here the ways in which that one little word can hamper a conversation – or, indeed – a relationship. To say nothing of an entire social movement. He was justified in pointing out the sticky truth, which is: to an adamant believer, the term is more than a stumbling block… it’s code for “DANGER, WILL ROBINSON, DANGER! Executing terminal shutdown of all input capabilities!” (… A little much? Yeah, you’re probably right.) Besides, we don’t deign to give ourselves labels with regards to our belief in fairies or unicorns, Thor or Apollo – and doing so when it comes to today’s brand of mysticism seems to lend it an odd sort of credence. Einstein never referred to himself as an atheist, though for all intents and purposes he was one, because (he once stated) he didn’t quite share their “fervor” when it came to open conversation or religious debunking. And, it should be said, Mr. Harris himself has managed to bend many an ear to our cause without ever having called himself an "atheist" either.
But then again…
I have only my own experiences to draw from. As you know by now, I am little more than a housewife in a back-water section of the world, surrounded by people whose religious tolerances (or lack thereof) would just as soon see me tarred as glance my way; and that may well have tarnished my perspective of the issue – giving me a belief that wouldn’t survive a transition to the national stage. But when it came to a mirror-facing throw-down with myself as to whether or not I stood with Mr. Harris… I was forced to realize that I didn’t.
For many years, I shied away from calling myself an atheist. And for those many years, I didn’t have the conversations I should have been having. My religious friends and family approached my non-religious nature the same way a Lakers fan might address someone who’s just not that into sports: “no biggie, pick another topic of conversation, she’s not really… NOT religious – she just ain’t settled in to the right church yet.” Even putting forth my meager arguments as I did, absent the “OMG, NOOOO” label (as I’m pretty certain some would call it), my views seemed to lack the weight of… I’ll call it sincerity, for I can’t seem to dredge up a better word at the moment. Absent atheism, the person-to-person world didn’t seem to think I was all that invested. But by sporting the title, I somehow opened the floodgates and thereby the lines of communication. Those same friends and family began defending their views in earnest. Books were exchanged, debates were held, and (very occasionally) I’d earn the satisfaction of knowing someone’s perspective of atheism had been altered for the better.
Strangely, and happily, I like atheism. I like calling myself an atheist. I like knowing that the world, and maybe even our religious nation, are on the verge of accepting the novel notion that maybe we aren’t what we’ve seemed, from the other side of historical-biases. And, even after an honest and careful consideration of this argument, I can stand by my self-affirmation – and my call to you, and to those who share your views, to declare yourselves as I have – with something approaching… confidence.
The advancement of reason, of evidence, of fact-based intelligence, needs our support. And, if I may venture to say as much Mr. Einstein, I think the world needs our fervor, too.
Monday, March 30, 2009
13. Something Familiar; Something Peculiar; Something for Everyone!
One of my favorite quotes is something plucked from a Time Magazine interview with Richard Dawkins, wherein he stated:
“What I am skeptical about is the idea that whatever wonderful revelation does come in the science of the future, it will turn out to be one of the particular historical religions that people happen to have dreamed up… it does seem to me to be a worthy idea. Refutable – but nevertheless grand and big enough to be worthy of respect. I don’t see the Olympian gods or Jesus coming down and dying on the cross as worthy of that grandeur. They strike me as parochial. If there is a god, it’s going to be a whole lot bigger and a whole lot more incomprehensible than anything that any theologian of any religion has ever proposed.”
Love that.
He’s right, of course. If there were anything awe-inspiring about an old white guy in bronze-age jammies, I suspect we’d see more of them in big-budget films. Imagine: Jesus reprising the greatest roles of Marlon Brando, Al Pacino, and Chuck Norris – a fish in one hand, an animal-skin scroll in the other, making Vin Diesel cry… More from shame than from fear, I'd guess. Still… I smell money, there. Cartoon Network, I hope you’re paying attention.
As I write this, I realize that many who’ve rejected the current brand of mythology aren’t ready to make that open leap, and may benefit from a transitional form of fable. Now, we have Bertrand Russell’s flying teapot, and the Invisible Pink Unicorn – but those are for illustrative purposes concerning that which cannot be seen/disproven, and in practice, run counter to entire notion of skepticism. But not to worry. To those lovely individuals, I suggest having a go at some on-the-fly religious invention.
I’ll go first.
Ladies and gentlemen, I give you… The Visible Pink Dolphin.
The first thing you’ll note in the grand list of “Reasons My God is Superior to Abraham’s” is this: I’ve documented proof of his existence. You can see him, touch him – even hop in the water and give him a tickle, if you’re so inclined (you weirdo). Second, hearing his voice isn’t indicative of failing medication or anointed wisdom; and can be recorded for future reference, so there’s no potential break-down in communication when his orders (pertaining to the all-important salvation of every living thing) are conveyed through a single, very-fallible, very-corruptible individual. Third, he’ll never frown on you. It’s anatomically impossible for him to do anything but smile in your general direction. Fourth, he’s no intention of ever directing your life. Whether or not you snarf down a bit of bacon on a Friday or accidentally brush up against a bed that’s housed a menstruating female (gasp) has very little to do with him. Fifth, he’ll never ask of you any unseemly thing; like sacrificing your first-born son, or ramming a plane into a building. (To say nothing of the whole “Job” incident.) Best of all, no tithing! Apparently, cash and sea water aren't a brilliant mix. As such, the most he’ll ever expect is that you toss the beach ball back into the water from time to time, when you’ve the occasion. And lastly, no cumbersome, inapplicable manifesto to memorize, even in select chunks. His entire philosophy can be summed up in Sam Cooke’s “Twistin’ the Night Away”.
From here, you can invent rituals as you see fit (they're important, I'm told), so long as you change them on a daily basis. It's good to keep things fresh, and will seem a nice change when compared to practices that have stagnated since their conception, eons past, when individuals (whose mental-prowess was doubtless inferior to yours) developed them. Just make sure they’re suitably absurd – the more brow-raising a religion is, the more credibility it seems to garner. Touching your nose to the floor or ensuring your meat is taken from a cud-chewing creature hasn’t much on using your lunch break to submerge your head in the sink for a bit of mid-day fin-worship or, better yet, standing from your desk at random intervals to shout “Sea World is the highest form of blasphemy”.
And remember, when they call you out on your chosen brand of insanity, don’t be discourteous… Return the favor.
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
12. Come On, Come Out.
I suppose it all comes down to this atypical mindset we atheists seem to share. No driving ideology means no driving desire to go forth and convert the world; and convincing us to congregate has been likened to herding cats. (Some say this is because we’ve no need to converge and reassure ourselves of our correctness. But I think it’s just as likely that we prefer to avoid anything and everything that might seem to emulate dogmatic structure.) Either way, we keep to ourselves. The result being the perpetuation of this myth that we are few and deviant; a handful of miscreants to be tolerated, or not, by whatever church happens to dominate the region we inhabit. The second adjective can be chalked up to malignant indoctrination. But the first? Well, that one’s on us.
Rough polls show that 8-14% of American citizens are atheists/agnostics/non-believers/skeptics – taking up a larger chunk of our nation’s demographical charts than Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and every other outlying/oddball religion combined. Yet, only a very marginal percentage of those actually consider themselves “atheists”. Those who do not will often cite the negative stigmas associated with the word (not its lack of appropriateness) as the reason for their refusal to use it. “Yes, you could call me something along those lines – but you simply don’t say those kinds of things directly. Not here.” For many years, I was of the same opinion. Why use the word? Why give myself a name? I’d no interest in socially hobbling myself, after all – and that seemed to be all the term was designed to do. So I kept my head down, thinking it was for the good of all of us rutting godless types. Even now, unless I’m in the mood for chewing up and spitting out a lusty bit of ideological hors d'oeuvres, I can be slow to admit my skeptical nature – something I know I’ve mentioned before. It is often the Conversational Admission of No Return *queue ominous bass-notes*. But isn’t that the point? I’ll lay odds that none of us would be too terribly skippy about making a U-turn from what and who we are; so why aren’t we saying as much?
It’s only recently that I’ve taken to wearing Dawkins’ “Scarlet Letter of Atheism” pin, declaring myself as an active part of the Out Campaign (click on the lovely little “A” on the bottom, left corner for more information on this movement); always with the hope that I’ll spy another on one of the many lapels floating about town. It hasn’t happened. Not yet. Though I find myself growing more optimistic, of late. Today, for the first time, a stranger took interest in my modest red badge and asked its meaning. To be honest, I was briefly caught off-guard. When I responded, the gas station clerk said simply, “Ah” and made a play of counting the change in his hand. Naturally, I braced myself. Something in his expression made it clear he’d more to say on the matter. For all I knew, he was contemplating the odds of keeping his job if he were to throw the change in my face. But, when I looked closely, what was present around his eyes was very far from contempt. Finally, with a wary glance at his co-worker, the man leaned in and quietly confessed, “I’m a non-believer, myself, so...” Then he flashed a smile, and a discreet thumbs-up.
There are more of us than even WE realize. Imagine how the nation’s view of us could be altered if only the growing lot of us were willing to declare ourselves. Yes, there are complications. Yes, there will be downfalls. But, like every social movement before us, the outcome will be driven by the actions we are willing to take; the volume of our collective voice. And the first step is to hop from behind the closet door.
Be active. Join the Center for Inquiry or give the Out Campaign a look-see. Snag a pretty pin (or a sticker, whatever floats yer boat). And when someone asks your religious affiliation, say it loud, say it proud, and know that you’re not all by your lonesome in opposing the real monsters under the bed: Federally-endorsed religious conviction and the absence of reason.
Rough polls show that 8-14% of American citizens are atheists/agnostics/non-believers/skeptics – taking up a larger chunk of our nation’s demographical charts than Jews, Muslims, Buddhists, and every other outlying/oddball religion combined. Yet, only a very marginal percentage of those actually consider themselves “atheists”. Those who do not will often cite the negative stigmas associated with the word (not its lack of appropriateness) as the reason for their refusal to use it. “Yes, you could call me something along those lines – but you simply don’t say those kinds of things directly. Not here.” For many years, I was of the same opinion. Why use the word? Why give myself a name? I’d no interest in socially hobbling myself, after all – and that seemed to be all the term was designed to do. So I kept my head down, thinking it was for the good of all of us rutting godless types. Even now, unless I’m in the mood for chewing up and spitting out a lusty bit of ideological hors d'oeuvres, I can be slow to admit my skeptical nature – something I know I’ve mentioned before. It is often the Conversational Admission of No Return *queue ominous bass-notes*. But isn’t that the point? I’ll lay odds that none of us would be too terribly skippy about making a U-turn from what and who we are; so why aren’t we saying as much?
It’s only recently that I’ve taken to wearing Dawkins’ “Scarlet Letter of Atheism” pin, declaring myself as an active part of the Out Campaign (click on the lovely little “A” on the bottom, left corner for more information on this movement); always with the hope that I’ll spy another on one of the many lapels floating about town. It hasn’t happened. Not yet. Though I find myself growing more optimistic, of late. Today, for the first time, a stranger took interest in my modest red badge and asked its meaning. To be honest, I was briefly caught off-guard. When I responded, the gas station clerk said simply, “Ah” and made a play of counting the change in his hand. Naturally, I braced myself. Something in his expression made it clear he’d more to say on the matter. For all I knew, he was contemplating the odds of keeping his job if he were to throw the change in my face. But, when I looked closely, what was present around his eyes was very far from contempt. Finally, with a wary glance at his co-worker, the man leaned in and quietly confessed, “I’m a non-believer, myself, so...” Then he flashed a smile, and a discreet thumbs-up.
There are more of us than even WE realize. Imagine how the nation’s view of us could be altered if only the growing lot of us were willing to declare ourselves. Yes, there are complications. Yes, there will be downfalls. But, like every social movement before us, the outcome will be driven by the actions we are willing to take; the volume of our collective voice. And the first step is to hop from behind the closet door.
Be active. Join the Center for Inquiry or give the Out Campaign a look-see. Snag a pretty pin (or a sticker, whatever floats yer boat). And when someone asks your religious affiliation, say it loud, say it proud, and know that you’re not all by your lonesome in opposing the real monsters under the bed: Federally-endorsed religious conviction and the absence of reason.
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