Some things will always make the Smiling Atheist smile. This is one of them:
http://www.tennessean.com/article/20101201/NEWS06/12010350/-1/testpage/Nashville+billboards+claim+Jesus+will+return+May+21++2011
Here's one of the things I don't figure. If we know the end is coming, and we know the nature of that end (most go to Hell, the Elect are saved), then is there really anything to do? I doubt a last-second conversion is going to do the trick. Should we really all gather on a hilltop? Why? I figure, Jesus can just come over to the house if he's got business with me. Otherwise, I'm just going to watch Dexter until the lights go out.
Or, alternatively, I do believe the drill is that there will be an anti-Christ and there's that thousand-year reign and such. We've got plenty of time. Just relax. You'd still better mow the lawn.
Then there's this, from the article. Family Radio says they "want to save their friends and neighbors from God's judgments." Pardon? It's in the power of mortals to save other mortals from God's judgment? Kewl.
Finally, is there any significance to the fact that 21 May 2011 is on a Saturday? Score one for the Seventh-Day Adventists?
Well. At least the Christian God will end the world before those rotten Mayans can.
On a more serious note, the passage from Mark 13:32 (you'll have to read the whole business for the background) says something really interesting to me. Specifically,
"But of that day and that hour knoweth no man, no, not the angels which are in heaven, neither the Son, but the Father. "
The Father knows a thing that the Son does not? Extraordinary! That seems to undercut the post-Nicaean understanding of the nature of the Trinity. I really, honestly do feel sorry for the untold legions of theologians who tried so valiantly to bring any sort of consistency out of the chaotic collection that is the Christian Bible.
Friday, December 03, 2010
Thursday, September 16, 2010
I'll have a vent, eh
I got my stick an' I got my hat
You best believe, honey, I'm all dat
Benny and his Jets today attacked "atheist extremism" and "aggressive secularism". I suppose his pontiffiness would be happier with passive secularism or atheist moderation.
First of all, let me say that atheist extremism in the defense of liberty is no crime.
Second, let me say that anyone wearing that much gold simply cannot be taken seriously.
There's a reason why the Brits went on a tear about Popery and His He-ness ought to recognize that he's a guest in the Isles and not take such a popier-than-thou tone with his hosts. Then again, popes have a long history of scolding. They acquired the buttinsky disease early on and have never got over it, not even when told to get lost.
Doesn't he look like he has a jet pack on and is getting ready to launch?
I don't mind folks being Catholic. To each his own, sez I. But I do mind when any leader decides that he gets to decide, regardless of the topic. I hold to this principle aggressively, thankee kindly. I also like my history straight, hold the holy water, and his statement that Christianity is the foundation of British freedoms goes so far wide of the mark that it's both irritating and laughable at the same time. I'm not sure which freedoms he had in mind when saying that; I doubt any particular ones at all. It sounds like the sort of fuzzy-minded generalizations that I try hard to teach my students to avoid.
Wouldn't you like to see some kung-fu moves with that Staff of Holiness +6?
What few responses I've read from the secularists sound decidedly un-aggressive, and none of the atheist remarks are in the least bit extreme, and nary a neo-nazi among 'em. I suppose the pope knows some folks I don't.
My recommendation to Il Papa is: stick to the kindly-old-man remarks like the ones you made later today in Glasgow. Encourage the young priests, fortify the faithful, and don't presume to judge the rest of us. I think your User's Manual has a passage about that somewhere.
Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Spiritualism and Religion
Spiritualism. You know the type.
"I believe in God but I don't believe in any organized religion."
By which they mean: I've chosen all the warmFuzzyHappy parts about religion and keep away from the oppressiveRegulatedScary bits.
This is nonsense and worse than nonsense. Nobody believes in a God without the context of religion because that's how we learned about God in the first place. We read about Him. We saw the movie. The choice of the spiritualist isn't the choice of a genuine religious, it's the choice of the protester (not to say 'protestant'), the half-committed, the revisionist. It's a person who refuses to accept the discipline and instruction of an organized religion while stubbornly claiming that his happy-blanket is just as good or better. That may be a comfort to the individual, but it offers nothing to the human condition.
And the Smilin' Atheist says that if you aren't offering something to the human condition, then you aren't offering anything at all. Mysticism goes nowhere. Monasticism is the epitome of self-indulgence. "Get on up-a", to quote the sage, "get on the scene."
True, spiritualism doesn't necessarily imply quietism, but that's the direction in which it tends. As for me, give me that old-time religion. Gods and priests and rituals and rules ... I get that. I understand that, where it comes from, where it goes, and where it doesn't go. When you make up your own rules nobody gets to judge you; it keeps you safe, but it also checks you out from the human condition, which is fundamentally social. Man is a political animal, as a former rock star says, and only the idiot pretends he is not part of the polis. If you *are* going to drop out, at least do so to form a new society. That's what the Protestants did, and they get props for that at least.
The spiritualist, though, offers nothing, asks for nothing, abides by nothing, and yet claims to have something. What is it, you ask. It's personal, comes the reply. Oh. Well. Off you go then. The Smilin' Atheist sez: only religions have belief; spiritualists have make-believe. It's all nonsense, but there are grades of nonsense, ain't there?
"I believe in God but I don't believe in any organized religion."
By which they mean: I've chosen all the warmFuzzyHappy parts about religion and keep away from the oppressiveRegulatedScary bits.
This is nonsense and worse than nonsense. Nobody believes in a God without the context of religion because that's how we learned about God in the first place. We read about Him. We saw the movie. The choice of the spiritualist isn't the choice of a genuine religious, it's the choice of the protester (not to say 'protestant'), the half-committed, the revisionist. It's a person who refuses to accept the discipline and instruction of an organized religion while stubbornly claiming that his happy-blanket is just as good or better. That may be a comfort to the individual, but it offers nothing to the human condition.
And the Smilin' Atheist says that if you aren't offering something to the human condition, then you aren't offering anything at all. Mysticism goes nowhere. Monasticism is the epitome of self-indulgence. "Get on up-a", to quote the sage, "get on the scene."
True, spiritualism doesn't necessarily imply quietism, but that's the direction in which it tends. As for me, give me that old-time religion. Gods and priests and rituals and rules ... I get that. I understand that, where it comes from, where it goes, and where it doesn't go. When you make up your own rules nobody gets to judge you; it keeps you safe, but it also checks you out from the human condition, which is fundamentally social. Man is a political animal, as a former rock star says, and only the idiot pretends he is not part of the polis. If you *are* going to drop out, at least do so to form a new society. That's what the Protestants did, and they get props for that at least.
The spiritualist, though, offers nothing, asks for nothing, abides by nothing, and yet claims to have something. What is it, you ask. It's personal, comes the reply. Oh. Well. Off you go then. The Smilin' Atheist sez: only religions have belief; spiritualists have make-believe. It's all nonsense, but there are grades of nonsense, ain't there?
Monday, August 09, 2010
How Religion Happens
I've been meaning to comment on this for a few months. Not long after the earthquake in Haiti, a few weeks after, I heard a news story. The reporter interviewed a local who talked about the destruction of this and that building. She spoke specifically of the destruction of churches, always a somewhat awkward bit when dealing with natural disasters.
Yes, she said, many churches were destroyed in the earthquake, and many of the faithful were having a hard time understanding why God should have allowed (or caused) such a thing. She went on to observe, however, that in her church, the crucifix didn't fall down, even though the rest of the building did. Moreover, the same had been the case in churches all across Haiti. The churches fell, but not the crucifixes.
Thus were the faithful justified in their faith.
Now, chances are, this nice lady did not go around Haiti personally verifying this little factoid. It's practically the very definition of faith that one doesn't check, one simply believes. I have no doubt that this "fact" has passed into legend, at least within her own circle if not more widely, where it will be immune from checking for ever more.
And it hit me then and there: this is how religion happens. Faced with calamity, we struggle to make sense out of the random cruelty of the universe. We see a thing, or think we see it, or we hear of a thing, and this thing both justifies and comforts us, so we cling to it and nurture it, and we would never dream of subjecting it to anything like objective verification. It's as if we believed we'd learned to fly by flapping our arms. Why would a fellow want to stop flapping his arms? Just to check? Get outta here.
So, in churches all across Haiti, the buildings fell but the crucifixes stood, and surely this Means Something, though people won't say what. They'll just repeat the story to one another and nod their heads and be comforted.
Flap, flap, flap.
Yes, she said, many churches were destroyed in the earthquake, and many of the faithful were having a hard time understanding why God should have allowed (or caused) such a thing. She went on to observe, however, that in her church, the crucifix didn't fall down, even though the rest of the building did. Moreover, the same had been the case in churches all across Haiti. The churches fell, but not the crucifixes.
Thus were the faithful justified in their faith.
Now, chances are, this nice lady did not go around Haiti personally verifying this little factoid. It's practically the very definition of faith that one doesn't check, one simply believes. I have no doubt that this "fact" has passed into legend, at least within her own circle if not more widely, where it will be immune from checking for ever more.
And it hit me then and there: this is how religion happens. Faced with calamity, we struggle to make sense out of the random cruelty of the universe. We see a thing, or think we see it, or we hear of a thing, and this thing both justifies and comforts us, so we cling to it and nurture it, and we would never dream of subjecting it to anything like objective verification. It's as if we believed we'd learned to fly by flapping our arms. Why would a fellow want to stop flapping his arms? Just to check? Get outta here.
So, in churches all across Haiti, the buildings fell but the crucifixes stood, and surely this Means Something, though people won't say what. They'll just repeat the story to one another and nod their heads and be comforted.
Flap, flap, flap.
Friday, July 16, 2010
When You Wish Upon A Star
Makes no difference who you are.
Or where you are. Or what church you attend. Or what you believe or disbelieve. Or which pair of socks you wore last Thursday.
This is really, really difficult for us humans to accept. Like a child denied a treat, we continue to find ways to expect, to ask, to hope. And then, when some hoped-for thing actually happens, we naturally attribute it to that church, that belief, that pair of socks, because otherwise we must face the universe without hope.
I'm okay with that. In fact, I'm profoundly satisfied with that. I want to look at the universe without flinching. I don't find the universe to be exciting or beautiful (pace Carl Sagan); rather, I find it to be largely empty with random acts of violence, a subset of which I happen to like. The universe does occasionally surprise me, but mostly it's pretty dull. Human beings, otoh, are eternally surprising. Yes, the universe will one day snuff out all of us, but that doesn't make us any less valued, no more than does the fact that a flower will one day fade lessen in the slightest its present beauty.
So, a pox on the desperate hopefulness of religions. Whether its a hope for heaven or nirvana or just avoiding the wrath of the sky god -- or indeed the hope for being cured of a disease or to have the home team win or to get out of this damned foxhole alive -- no matter, I say, it all detracts from our humanity. It demeans us and lessens us. Let us have an end to chanting, an end to prayer circles, an end to offerings. Let us stop trying to petition the Lord with prayer. He ain't at home anyway.
What if all the energy spent in prayerful wishing were spent in doing, instead?
Or where you are. Or what church you attend. Or what you believe or disbelieve. Or which pair of socks you wore last Thursday.
This is really, really difficult for us humans to accept. Like a child denied a treat, we continue to find ways to expect, to ask, to hope. And then, when some hoped-for thing actually happens, we naturally attribute it to that church, that belief, that pair of socks, because otherwise we must face the universe without hope.
I'm okay with that. In fact, I'm profoundly satisfied with that. I want to look at the universe without flinching. I don't find the universe to be exciting or beautiful (pace Carl Sagan); rather, I find it to be largely empty with random acts of violence, a subset of which I happen to like. The universe does occasionally surprise me, but mostly it's pretty dull. Human beings, otoh, are eternally surprising. Yes, the universe will one day snuff out all of us, but that doesn't make us any less valued, no more than does the fact that a flower will one day fade lessen in the slightest its present beauty.
So, a pox on the desperate hopefulness of religions. Whether its a hope for heaven or nirvana or just avoiding the wrath of the sky god -- or indeed the hope for being cured of a disease or to have the home team win or to get out of this damned foxhole alive -- no matter, I say, it all detracts from our humanity. It demeans us and lessens us. Let us have an end to chanting, an end to prayer circles, an end to offerings. Let us stop trying to petition the Lord with prayer. He ain't at home anyway.
What if all the energy spent in prayerful wishing were spent in doing, instead?
Tuesday, June 01, 2010
The Fool Hath Said In His Heart
This is a repost from my first year of this blog. It's worth re-stating, with some even-handed additions.
There is no God.
There is no Thor, no Odin, Loki, Freya or Jormungand.
There is no Yahweh, there is no Allah.
There is no Zeus, no Ares, no Isis nor Osiris.
There is no Brahma, no Kuber, no Yama or Shiva or Ashwini Kumara.
There is no Anguta, no Shakura, no Selu, Sedna or Ocasta.
There is no jaguar god, no elephant god, no coyote god, no bear god, no guinea pig god.
There is no god of the sun, of the moon, of Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, any of the asteroids, nor of the comets nor of disabled orbiting satellites.
There is no Chenresig, no Maitreya, no Vajrasattva, no Manjushri.
There is no Akongo, no Gua, no Zin or Yo or Mon or So.
What, did you think your particular god was different somehow?
There is no God.
There is no Thor, no Odin, Loki, Freya or Jormungand.
There is no Yahweh, there is no Allah.
There is no Zeus, no Ares, no Isis nor Osiris.
There is no Brahma, no Kuber, no Yama or Shiva or Ashwini Kumara.
There is no Anguta, no Shakura, no Selu, Sedna or Ocasta.
There is no jaguar god, no elephant god, no coyote god, no bear god, no guinea pig god.
There is no god of the sun, of the moon, of Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, any of the asteroids, nor of the comets nor of disabled orbiting satellites.
There is no Chenresig, no Maitreya, no Vajrasattva, no Manjushri.
There is no Akongo, no Gua, no Zin or Yo or Mon or So.
What, did you think your particular god was different somehow?
Monday, May 31, 2010
What Have They Done?
The tragic farce that is the BP oil spill keeps bringing back to mind lines from Jim Morrison.
What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her,
Stabbed her with knives in the side of the dawn,
Tied her with fences and
Dragged her down.
Well, Jim, we still want the world and we still want it now,
but it turns out that it didn't matter if we had the numbers.
They had the guns.
What have they done to the earth?
What have they done to our fair sister?
Ravaged and plundered and ripped her and bit her,
Stabbed her with knives in the side of the dawn,
Tied her with fences and
Dragged her down.
Well, Jim, we still want the world and we still want it now,
but it turns out that it didn't matter if we had the numbers.
They had the guns.
Friday, April 23, 2010
Why Good Things Happen
Theologians have long wrestled with the thorny question of why God, who is Good, would allow bad things to happen (by which the religious always mean "happen to *people*"). I will not try to duplicate or even to discuss that conversation, for it's been well handled over the centuries. I think what explanations there are, are about as good as they're going to get.
What strikes me is no one discusses the logical inverse of this proposition. I personally have no trouble at all wondering why bad things happen. They just happen. Rocks fall and every once in a while some poor sap is underneath one of them. There's nothing really to explain, once you get past the physics.
It is a wonder, though, why good things happen. I suppose this is the great conundrum for the atheist. The religious don't have to explain it because God causes all good things, right? Problem solved. They then turn to the atheist, smiling smugly, and ask how in a world without God, anything good could possibly happen.
The question stems in part from the view of the religious that humanity is fundamentally flawed. Pick your religion, they all hold the same tenet: there is Something Better out there and it ain't us. So we need some sort of help, some discipline, some forgiveness, some catastrophe to happen and then and only then can we hope to become Better.
Wouldn't it be interesting, though, to suppose that neither Good nor Bad is in need of explanation. Humans do good things (or bad things) because we do things and some of these things are judged to be good and some are judged to be bad. We are judge, jury, prosecution, defense, the accused, and the victim. There is no god but us and we are our own prophet, thank you very much.
If you look at any particular time and any particular place, you'll find there's quite a bit more Good than Bad going on. Bad gets all the press, and Good is usually rather boring, but in sheer quantity over the course of twenty-four hours, basic decency wins. We're usually polite to one another. Most of us care for each other most of the time. Most of us like doing kind things for each other. What's to explain?
Yes, we can go grievously wrong from time to time. Spectacularly wrong. But it's from time to time, not all the time. It's some of us, not most of us. After all, being wicked takes work.
So, why do Good things happen? Because there are people.
BTW, if you read sacred texts that narrate the actions of gods, I'd say their record of doing Good Things versus doing Bad Things is heavily weighted toward the Bad. Gods tend to blow shit up, tear things down, kill people and animals. Only very occasionally, indeed almost randomly, do gods build cities, raise families, heal the sick, bring peace and justice, create beauty. Doesn't seem to be their specialty.
What strikes me is no one discusses the logical inverse of this proposition. I personally have no trouble at all wondering why bad things happen. They just happen. Rocks fall and every once in a while some poor sap is underneath one of them. There's nothing really to explain, once you get past the physics.
It is a wonder, though, why good things happen. I suppose this is the great conundrum for the atheist. The religious don't have to explain it because God causes all good things, right? Problem solved. They then turn to the atheist, smiling smugly, and ask how in a world without God, anything good could possibly happen.
The question stems in part from the view of the religious that humanity is fundamentally flawed. Pick your religion, they all hold the same tenet: there is Something Better out there and it ain't us. So we need some sort of help, some discipline, some forgiveness, some catastrophe to happen and then and only then can we hope to become Better.
Wouldn't it be interesting, though, to suppose that neither Good nor Bad is in need of explanation. Humans do good things (or bad things) because we do things and some of these things are judged to be good and some are judged to be bad. We are judge, jury, prosecution, defense, the accused, and the victim. There is no god but us and we are our own prophet, thank you very much.
If you look at any particular time and any particular place, you'll find there's quite a bit more Good than Bad going on. Bad gets all the press, and Good is usually rather boring, but in sheer quantity over the course of twenty-four hours, basic decency wins. We're usually polite to one another. Most of us care for each other most of the time. Most of us like doing kind things for each other. What's to explain?
Yes, we can go grievously wrong from time to time. Spectacularly wrong. But it's from time to time, not all the time. It's some of us, not most of us. After all, being wicked takes work.
So, why do Good things happen? Because there are people.
BTW, if you read sacred texts that narrate the actions of gods, I'd say their record of doing Good Things versus doing Bad Things is heavily weighted toward the Bad. Gods tend to blow shit up, tear things down, kill people and animals. Only very occasionally, indeed almost randomly, do gods build cities, raise families, heal the sick, bring peace and justice, create beauty. Doesn't seem to be their specialty.
Friday, April 02, 2010
Separation of Atheist and State
We're all over separation of Church and State. It's a principle widely recognized in multiple countries, and we all see the unfortunate effects of failing to maintain that separation. But it occurred to me...should there be a separation of atheism and the State?
This gets tricky. The principle is that there should be a separation of the State from the Church, but not that there should be a separation between public service and religiosity or spirituality. Indeed, many feel there's a necessary link between strong spiritual values and being a good public servant. We draw the line, though, at using the power of the State to support any particular Church, or using the doctrine of any particular Church at informing public policy.
See? It gets interesting. I doubt any atheist would argue that the power of the State should be used to support atheism in any form. But what about using the principles of atheism to inform public policy? Should a State be organized on atheistic principles?
I think the answer lies more or less in how we handle religion in the political sphere. Any given legislator is free to have his decisions underpinned, conditioned, influenced, by his personal beliefs, whether these are the beliefs of a religion or of atheism. Those in the judiciary are supposed to follow the Law, rather than any god or philosophy. With a legislator, the democratic assumption is that if the legislator belongs to a religion out of step with his constituency, and lets that influence too greatly influence his legislating, then the people vote him out. That can't happen with a judge. The executive is trickier, as only a handful of executives are elected.
In any event, the thought does bother me a bit. It's all very well to say to keep religion out of politics, but logically that argument should extend to any philosophy, and that doesn't feel right either. Separation of Existentialism and State?
This gets tricky. The principle is that there should be a separation of the State from the Church, but not that there should be a separation between public service and religiosity or spirituality. Indeed, many feel there's a necessary link between strong spiritual values and being a good public servant. We draw the line, though, at using the power of the State to support any particular Church, or using the doctrine of any particular Church at informing public policy.
See? It gets interesting. I doubt any atheist would argue that the power of the State should be used to support atheism in any form. But what about using the principles of atheism to inform public policy? Should a State be organized on atheistic principles?
I think the answer lies more or less in how we handle religion in the political sphere. Any given legislator is free to have his decisions underpinned, conditioned, influenced, by his personal beliefs, whether these are the beliefs of a religion or of atheism. Those in the judiciary are supposed to follow the Law, rather than any god or philosophy. With a legislator, the democratic assumption is that if the legislator belongs to a religion out of step with his constituency, and lets that influence too greatly influence his legislating, then the people vote him out. That can't happen with a judge. The executive is trickier, as only a handful of executives are elected.
In any event, the thought does bother me a bit. It's all very well to say to keep religion out of politics, but logically that argument should extend to any philosophy, and that doesn't feel right either. Separation of Existentialism and State?
Monday, January 11, 2010
Atheist Holidays solved
I thought about it and I have the solution.
Weekends are now officially atheist holidays.
All weekends, except for those that coincide with religious holidays. Wouldn't want to step on anyone's toes.
I like this solution because it gives to atheists more holidays (defined as non-work days) than any religion, which seems just. As for rituals associated with our holidays, I submit that they already exist: movies, parties, gaming, dining, dancing, drinking, hanging out, going out, freaking out. In short, being human. What better way for atheists to celebrate?
Weekends are now officially atheist holidays.
All weekends, except for those that coincide with religious holidays. Wouldn't want to step on anyone's toes.
I like this solution because it gives to atheists more holidays (defined as non-work days) than any religion, which seems just. As for rituals associated with our holidays, I submit that they already exist: movies, parties, gaming, dining, dancing, drinking, hanging out, going out, freaking out. In short, being human. What better way for atheists to celebrate?
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