The Sights of Summer

The Deacon and I have been traveling and have been without Internet access for a few days. I’m glad to see a lively discussion has grown up at my last post despite my absence (or maybe because of my absence). Since I’ve got Internet access today, I thought I’d drop in and say hello.

The Deacon and I spent most of yesterday at the National Baseball Hall of Fame and Museum in Cooperstown, NY. We capped the day by taking a few innings of ball at Doubleday Field. The photos below show some of the action we saw:

– the chaplain

 

Atheist Numbers vs. Evangelical Clout

I recently read an interesting book entitled, The Fall of the Evangelical Nation. The following passage appears fairly early in the book:

I want to debunk one of the most common misconceptions about the direction that spirituality is moving in the United States. Evangelicals are not the fastest-growing group in America. Neither are Pentecostals. Nonbelievers are the fastest-growing faith group in America in numbers and percentage. From 1990 to 2001, which was the last good count, they more than doubled, from 14 million to 29 million. Their proportion of the population grew from 8 percent to more than 14 percent. That means there are more than twice as many people who claim no religion as there are participating evangelicals….

Why hasn’t the growth of nonbelievers been given the mainstream media play that the false estimation of evangelical power has been given? Because there are no powerful groups that benefit by keeping in in the news…. Groups of atheists do not gather to protest or stage antiprayer rallies…. A hint about the large number of nonbelievers did capture the press’s attention recently when three new books hit the bestseller lists portraying religious belief as not only wrong but positively evil (pp. 52-53).

I know that none of this is news to you. We’re all familiar with Richard Dawkins’ Out Campaign, which encourages atheists to be outspoken about their faith-free state. Most of you are probably also familiar with vjack’s attempts to promote atheism and encourage the fostering of an atheist community. Many of you may also be aware of Andrew Clapper’s plans to build an atheist organization. And, of course, you are all familiar with the idea that organizing atheists is like herding cats, which is why the problem described by Wicker persists. Meanwhile, evangelicals, who are used to being led like sheep, are well-organized, vocal and disproportionately influential in American politics.

A wise man (or perhaps just a wise ass) has, on several occasions, written about the unseemly influence of evangelicals. The wise guy’s dog-loving friend also has written about the issue. Given the serious ramifications of the problem, and the Religious Right’s increasing militancy (how do you like the label, theocrats?), what do you think atheists should do? Should we build supportive communities and educational organizations? Should we form political action committees? What do you, my readers – all of whom are intelligent, articulate and bursting with ideas – think atheists should do to acquire a stronger voice in American politics?

– the chaplain

 

Humanist Symposium #21

The 21st Humanist Symposium, “Old Enough to Drink,” is up at Greta Christina’s blog. One of my posts is included, along with a fine selection of pieces by other bloggers.

 

Of Life and Death

On Sunday, I will be attending the funeral of a Christian friend. Sylvia had been seriously ill with a variety of conditions for close to a decade. Nevertheless, she usually exhibited a positive attitude and continued to enjoy her life, family and friends right up until her last medical crisis. She also believed that she would one day pass from her earthly life to a better one in heaven. Sylvia’s husband, Ted, frequently preached about the glories of heaven and encouraged believers to look forward to their eternal rewards. Now that Sylvia has died, her family is finding comfort in the belief that she has passed from this world into a better place. I understand how Ted and his children feel. I felt the same way when my father died 25 years ago, after losing a battle with cancer. I was glad that he was not suffering any more, that he had gone to his eternal home and that our family would one day be reunited with him. I mourned for him and missed him, but I was hopeful about his eternal destiny.

As I contemplate Sylvia’s life, faith and death, I’m also mindful of a gentleman I know who may undergo surgery in a week or so. His general health is not good and his doctors, as well as he and his wife, are not overly optimistic about his chances of surviving the surgery. Nevertheless, his condition is such that the anticipated quality of his life if he forgoes the surgery is not acceptable to him. He and his wife are both devout Christians, so they are relying on their faith in God, as well as their friends and family members, to help them endure this crisis. As I write, I hope the surgery will be successful – and it may – but I know that the chances are fairly good that it will not end well.

Sylvia’s death and Frank’s current health crisis have prompted me to think about life and death from a non-believer’s perspective. This is not the first time I’ve done so. Last summer, less than a week after I realized that I no longer believed in God, the deacon’s grandmother died. Her funeral focused on celebrating her long life – 91 years – rather than mourning. The pastor continued in that frame of mind at the graveside service when he said, “That’s not Anna in there. It’s simply her shell. The Anna we knew and loved is in heaven now.” As he spoke those words, I thought, “You’re wrong. All of Anna’s remains are in that box and the only parts of her that continue to exist are the memories people hold and the generations of descendants who have followed her and continue the cycle of life.” As I articulated that thought to myself, I discovered that I wasn’t distressed by it. Thus, very early in my deconversion, I realized that I didn’t fear death, notwithstanding the Christian belief that I, as a non-believer, should have been terrified by it.

My current attitude toward death is that it is sad, because the cessation of life is always sad, and that it is an inevitable necessity. It’s not something to look forward to, unless one is gravely ill and the release from suffering would be welcomed, but neither is it something to fear. If any Christians read this, they’ll likely conclude that my attitude is hopeless. What they don’t realize is that the corollary to my acceptance of death as the cessation of the one life I will be privileged to live is a greatly enhanced appreciation for life. I will not waste my life preparing and hoping for a better one in the future. Instead, I will do everything within my power to make my life the best possible life I can, for it is the only one I will ever live. It is something to embrace fully, not to squander.

Am I saddened by Sylvia’s death? Of course. I will miss her funny stories, her laugh and her sunny outlook on life. Am I saddened by Frank’s illness? Of course. I have watched him deteriorate physically from a vibrant man to a near-invalid. I’ve watched his frustration as his mind continues to be sharp and his body cannot keep pace with his will. I hope his surgery goes well and his health improves, because I want him to enjoy life for as long as he possibly can. He’s lived a good life and I hope he will continue living in a way that he finds fulfilling.

As for me, I neither want nor need the false comfort and hope that come from belief in an afterlife. Rather, when I face my own death, hopefully some time long in the future, I want to look back at a life lived to the fullest degree possible. That’s all the hope and comfort I need.

– the chaplain

 

Robocall Gilmore

Last night, Jim Gilmore, a former Virginia governor who is now running for the US Senate, graced my home with the first of what I am sure will be a long-running series of robocalls related to the upcoming elections. The dialog went something like this:

Chaplain: Hello.
Robocall: Hello. I’m Jim Gilmore and I’m running for the United States Senate. Do you believe that marriage should only be between a man and a woman?
Chaplain: No.
Robocall: Do you believe that the federal government should not fund abortions and should ban partial-birth abortions?
Chaplain: No.
Robocall: Do you believe that politicians should keep their promises not to raise taxes?
Chaplain: Yes.
Robocall: So do I. Former governor Mark Warner promised not to raise taxes, then broke his promise by raising taxes by XXX dollars. I promise not to raise taxes. Can I count on your support in this election?
Chaplain: I don’t know yet.
Robocall: This call will end with neither a yes or no response now.

Okay – full disclosure, confession, whatever you want to call it: I lied. I already know that I will not be voting for Jim Gilmore. The reason I didn’t say so was that I wanted to play a bit and find out how the system would respond to a non-committal answer. I found out – the call was terminated abruptly.

It was pretty interesting to think about the strategy involved with this call. It began with an attempt to find an issue on which the citizen and the candidate agree. When I didn’t bite on the gay marriage issue, the call immediately went to the next item on the list, abortion. When I didn’t agree with the candidate on that one, the call went to an issue with which few voters will likely disagree: whether politicians should keep their promises (Duh, no. I love it when people, especially politicians, lie to me. Keep ‘em coming. It’s fun trying to guess when you’re lying and when you’re not – it makes civic life interesting). Next, solely on the basis of that one area of agreement, the robocaller asked me to support the candidate. After all, single-issue voting is exactly what thoughtful, sophisticated voters do. If one refuses to make that commitment (a mere five months before the election), the call is abruptly terminated. I guess the robocaller doesn’t like non-responsiveness.

Since these calls are annoying to receive, I’m going to play some games with them throughout the election season. One is a variation of the one I played last night: refuse to give a yes or no answer. I’ll do that earlier in the “conversation” just to see how the robocaller responds. Will it try to persuade me on why the candidate’s position is right, will it move on to the next issue, or will it terminate the call? It could be fun to find out. Another game is to keep saying no, just to find out how long their laundry list of issues is. If you can think of other ways to mess around with the robocall system, let me know. Instead of being annoyed, I may end up having quite a lot of fun thwarting the system.

–the chaplain