The Theistic Me vs. the Atheistic Me

Before I present the meat of this post, please indulge me while I make a brief announcement. If you scroll down my sidebar (Not now! Later, after you’ve read the post!), you’ll see a big link for Another Goddamned Podcast. The podcast, which features a fine group of intelligent, articulate atheists, is posted every Tuesday. If you haven’t listened to any of their discussions yet, you may want to take some time to do so this weekend. If you can’t do that, you will certainly want to listen to this Tuesday’s (April 29) podcast, which will feature an extraordinary guest: Me, the chaplain, owner and host of An Apostate’s Chapel and relatively recent de-convert from Christianity, or convert to atheism, depending on how you choose to look at it. I recently joined the regular cast for a discussion of my de-conversion experience. I haven’t heard the rough cut yet, so I can’t predict exactly what you will hear. What I can tell you is that I had a great time chatting with the AGDP gang.

Okay. That’s this week’s plug for Another Goddamned Podcast: presented by a fine group of intelligent, articulate atheists, plus one. Check it out.

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Spanish Inquisitor recently wrote a post in which he shared some interesting emails he’s received. An interesting question that arrived in my emailbox last week was this one:

What does the atheistic you miss, if anything, about the theistic you?

My initial, knee-jerk reaction to this question was, “Absolutely nothing.” Upon further reflection, however, I realized that one thing I do miss about my former, believing self is my idealism. When I was a theist, I sincerely believed in such Christian ideals as unconditional love, humility, sacrifice and so on. I can’t say how well I did with the humility thing. After all, bragging about one’s humility negates the claim, doesn’t it? I can, however, recall a number of times when I sacrificed, to the point of enduring really difficult circumstances, in efforts to live up to my unrealistic ideals (a sacrificial spirit is crucial to living a holy, Christ-like life), or to advance the Kingdom of God (another ideal that I took very seriously).

Right now, my understanding of those ideals is changing drastically and I’m much more skeptical than idealistic. For one thing, I’m not sure that Unconditional Love actually exists. The closest thing to it, in my experience, may be parental love, but I wouldn’t bet my life savings on that proposition. Maybe I’d bet a few pennies or nickels on it. Maybe I wouldn’t bet anything at all.

With regard to humility and sacrifice, I think there is value in both of these ideals, on the condition that they are not compelled. Healthy humility is learned via the school of experience. Every child wants to be the best at everything he or she does. Children quickly learn that wishing doesn’t make it so: they’re good at some things, sucky at others and fair-to-middling at most. As for sacrifice, people learn that it is often better for their group if individual members distribute goods equitably and give to others what they could otherwise appropriate forcefully. But this may be, ultimately, self-serving. The individual’s greater, long-term interest may lie in the realities of safety in numbers or interdependency. Individuals often gain a lot more by maintaining good relations with other group members than they do by going it along. Humility and sacrifice, understood in terms like these, are simply ways of dealing intelligently with human limitations and realities in a harsh, uncaring world.

On the other hand, common Christian teachings regarding humility and sacrifice are often used to administer “spiritual discipline” and keep people in their places. Greta Christina wrote a post recently in which she objected to the idea that “Everything Happens for a Reason.” Ordinary Girl also wrote a good response to Greta Christina’s post.

Some points Greta Christina raised are her objections to the notion that God Has a Plan for Your Life (check out the infamous Four Spiritual Laws, if you’re not already familiar with them; the tracts used to have really fugly covers in a color marketed as goldenrod)

and the facts that this notion readily allows people to evade responsibility for the things that happen to them (or that they do to themselves) and to avoid learning from their mistakes (or the mistakes of others that have ill effects on them). Ordinary Girl noted that, when good things happen to Christians, they often interpret these events as signs that God is blessing them and that they must somehow be deserving of those blessings. On the other hand, when bad things happen to Christians, they are told that God is teaching them patience or humility or selflessness or obedience or something else along those lines. Shit never just happens. To the contrary, Paul taught that “in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose.” (Romans 8:28). It doesn’t matter if we can figure out what the hell that purpose may be. It exists. Accept it humbly and unquestioningly.

When Paul wrote that God works in all situations, he was basically telling Christians to suck it up and live with whatever circumstances they were enduring. For instance, he commanded them to be submissive to their religious and political leaders. (Romans 13:1 – “Everyone must submit himself to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established. The authorities that exist have been established by God.”) Are your leaders corrupt or incompetent? Too bad, tough luck. God put them in positions of power, even though they know jackshit about governing. Live with it, “my country, right or wrong.” Are you a slave? Then be the best damned slave in the world; you’re a slave because God willed or allowed it. (Ephesians 6:5, our favorite NT author again – “Slaves, obey your earthly masters with respect and fear, and with sincerity of heart, just as you would obey Christ.”) Are you poor? Then be grateful for whatever charity others give to you. Jesus himself allegedly taught that the world will always have lots of poor people (Matthew 26:11 – “The poor you will always have with you”). Live with it. The world is the way it is because God made it so, or (if one buys Original Sin and Free Will) allowed imperfect, corrupt human beings to make it so.

Conservative Christian leaders often tell their followers that they shouldn’t rock the boat, they shouldn’t make waves, they shouldn’t disrupt the status quo, they shouldn’t question their leaders too deeply, they shouldn’t doubt what they’ve been taught, etc. (to their credit, more liberal Christian leaders encourage their followers to fight for social justice, to ask lots of questions and so on). The conservative teachings I’ve noted are dehumanizing and patronizing to those who are wronged, and self-serving for those who want to retain power with as little opposition as possible. Thus, the Pope is infallible when he (and he is always a he) speaks ex cathedra. Thus, the general of The Salvation Army is God’s Man (or Woman – 2 of the 18 generals (an *ahem* impressive 11%) have been women) of the Hour for His Army; lower-ranking officers and foot soldiers should heed his commands and obey without complaint or protest. (That last bit is somewhat exaggerated, as leadership styles across the international Salvation Army run the gamut from extremely authoritarian to rather openly consensus-oriented, albeit within the constraints imposed by a hierarchical structure rivaling that of the RC Church.)

Some Christians – not all, by any means – believe that when your child is born with a horrible congenital defect, it’s God’s will. Accept it and cope with it. He’s teaching you perfect love, patience, dependence on Him…. When ministers are assigned to parishes for which they are ill-suited, they are assured that God always works through the ecclesiastical system to place them just where He needs them. He’s teaching them wisdom, patience, obedience…. Such tenets are shallow and stupid, at least, frequently manipulative and, at their worst, abusive.

Given my current thoughts about some of the ideals I held as a theist, you may find it strange that I miss my old idealism. The thing I liked about my idealistic self was that I was willing to look outside of my own interests and believe in something bigger and more significant than myself. I’m not a thoroughly selfish person now, but I sometimes miss – just a little bit – having something to believe in, or having a greater purpose than reproduction and survival. Rationalism and humanism just haven’t, to this point, given me the same sense of mission that I had as a Christian. A sense of mission, of participating in something Big, is intoxicating. Surrendering that may be one of the most difficult parts of shedding religion.

Would I revert to theism if it were possible to do so? No. Although I sometimes miss my idealism, I absolutely cherish my current freedom of inquiry. As an atheist, there are no boundaries to the questions I may ask and the areas that I may explore. My curiosity is insatiable. I love feeding it and would never again surrender the freedom to do so to superstition, dogma and pat answers. I love learning new things too much to return to a state in which I believed I had the answers to what I mistakenly thought were life’s most important questions. I’ve traded in my poorly founded idealism for vast intellectual freedom. In my view, that’s not a bad trade at all.

– the chaplain