Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts
Showing posts with label parenting. Show all posts

5.11.2012

How One Dad Is Moving Forward, After Amendment One

The below guest post was written by Matt Shipman, a science writer and father of three who lives in Raleigh. This is his third contribution to def shepherd. You can follow Matt on Twitter at @ShipLives or connect with him here on Google+.  

I wrote, some time ago, about how becoming a father made me a much stronger advocate for gay rights. As a dad, I spend time with my children every day. I see them running around with their friends. Odds are good that some of these kids I see on the playground will grow up to become gay teens and adults. And I have become increasingly horrified that someday someone would want to hurt any of these youngsters because of their sexual orientation.

That paternal, protective instinct makes me reject anything indicating that someone who is gay is somehow less important than someone who is straight. That extends, of course, to “Amendment One,” which passed overwhelmingly in North Carolina on May 8.

The passage of Amendment One has made a lot of people angry. It’s also made a lot of people, including me, incredibly sad. It will be some time before we can fully determine its impact, and there are many outstanding questions regarding what this will mean not only for same-sex families, but for domestic violence protections and unmarried heterosexual couples. No one – and I mean no one – can have any real idea of how these issues will play out.

There is also a great deal of discussion right now about the potential for legal action against Amendment One. I’m not an attorney, so I won’t prognosticate about that either.

All of this uncertainty can leave one feeling powerless. What can I do? If you’re a parent, there is a great deal you can do.

Make sure your children know that you will love them, no matter what. Teach them, by example, how to treat people with compassion and respect regardless of their sexual orientation. And, for those who can’t remember, going through puberty was excruciating. I can’t imagine what it is like to go through that while also fearing rejection from peers or one’s own family because of who you’re sexually attracted to. The least we can do for our children is let them know that they will always have our love and support. Home should always feel safe.

So that’s what I’ll be working on. Loving my kids. Showing them what it means to treat people with respect. Raising them, I hope, to be strong and honest and kind.

Amendment One has me feeling pretty blue right now. But if we, as parents, get this right, I have high hopes for the future.

10.24.2011

Guest Post: One Way I've Changed, Since Becoming A Dad

The below guest post was written by Matt Shipman, a science writer and father of three who lives in Raleigh. You can follow Matt on Twitter at @ShipLives or connect with him here on Google+. This is the first in an ongoing series of 'Allies For Equality' guest posts.

I've always felt that gay rights were important. I have gay friends and family members who I love and respect, so I could hardly feel otherwise. But gay rights have become increasingly important to me since I started a family.

I have three wonderful children. They are the center of my universe, and I never knew it was possible to love anyone or anything as much as I love them. It is awesome, in the true sense of the word -- it inspires awe.

Whenever I see a news item about a child who has taken his or her own life as a result of bullying or ostracization, the first thing I think of is the fact that that was someone's child. I talk to, hold and comfort my children every day. I watch them play with other kids. Many of my closest friends have young kids. It is impossible to tell which of these youngsters will be gay. The idea that someone could want to hurt any of these children because of their sexual orientation triggers my protective instincts. But I can't follow my kids around for the rest of their lives and protect them, much less all of the other kids that call me "Uncle Ship" or "Mister Ship."

So I feel compelled to reject anything -- anything -- that seems to intimate that someone who is gay is somehow less important than someone who is straight. That runs the gamut from slurs to the rights that we all (should) enjoy as citizens. Being a child and a teenager is difficult enough. We don't need to introduce artificial hurdles that contribute, intentionally or not, to hateful behavior.


9.22.2011

Ask A Humanist: Reflections On Leaving Faith In The Bible Belt

"Humanism is a progressive philosophy of life that, without theism and other supernatural beliefs, affirms our ability and responsibility to lead ethical lives of personal fulfillment that aspire to the greater good of humanity." - American Humanist Association


Since March of 2011, I have been writing and posting periodic missives about my long, slow departure from religion. I believe I left it long ago, but it wasn't until the last several years that I became comfortable with speaking openly about this aspect of my life.

Partly, this series has been a way to address many of the questions I've been asked by people here in the Bible Belt, where so many people assume everyone else belongs to a church congregation.

I also wrote many of these posts because, although there is no shortage of books about non-belief, there are not many which address the real-life impacts that leaving religion can have -- on our families, our neighbors, our children, and our emotions.

This page collects parts 1-7 of an ongoing, meandering stream of undefined scope, and will be updated as new posts are written.




Vol. 1: What Happened To Make You Angry At God?
As someone who is not religious, I often struggle with how to describe my lack of religion. I have returned to The Bible Belt after being away for a decade, and it is not uncommon to be asked, "Where do you go to church?" In this region, stating "We don't attend church" is often interpreted as "We haven't been invited to church yet," and more inquiries about your brand of faith are likely to ensue. I'm not keen on labels, especially to describe my lack of participation in something ("non-stamp collector" comes to mind). But people like to put a label on things (and people). For lack of a better term, and because the shoe seems to fit, I will often refer to myself as a Secular Humanist. Continue Reading...




Vol. 2: Aren't You Denying Your Children the Opportunity to be Religious?
Many people who were brought up in a major denomination are no longer affiliated with that denomination. Secularity is growing in all regions of the country. These people are otherwise normal people, and like religious folks, they are creating families. When their children reach the age where they start to be introduced to religious ideas, parents have to make some choices, and that presents some challenges and is a source of anxiety to many. Continue Reading...






Vol. 3: What About Death?
Human beings are both blessed and cursed in that we evolved the cruel awareness of our own mortality. We are cursed in that this awareness, combined with our fierce instinct of self-preservation, is the source of a great deal of fear and anxiety. Yet we are blessed in that we can truly understand the great fortune we have been afforded by our very existence. This awareness also allows us to truly understand the value of each day we are alive. Continue reading...






Vol. 4: Isn't Humanism a Faith?
If one follows a particular code, and aligns oneself with a philosophy that has a Web presence, a Wikipedia entry, and a presence in the public sphere, then isn't that just like any other faith or religion? That's a perfectly fair question. Continue reading...





Vol. 5: Why Do You Care What People Believe?
They used to say, "Never talk about politics or religion," but for some reason, those are the two things that fascinate me most. Religion and politics are hopelessly intertwined in America, and each informs so much of American culture, that it's difficult to get too far in a conversation before we're off and running down a path that might have been avoided in more refined times. There are times, if I voice frustration with a particular religious belief, when someone will ask, "Why do you care what people believe?" or any number of variations: "What happened to live and let live?" or "Can't you just be happy that people find comfort in their beliefs?" Continue reading...




Vol. 6: Isn't It Sad To Live Without Faith?
Many find it inconceivable that someone could find happiness without God and everything that accompanies belief in God: the promise of eternal life, the assurance that events in our lives are occurring in accordance with God's plan, and the feeling that an all-knowing, loving entity is looking over us and protecting us. Certainly, they think, without these assurances, life would be joyless, meaningless, and cold. Much of these insinuations are due to misunderstandings about the nature of non-belief. Continue reading...




Vol. 7: Isn't It Hypocritical For A Non-Believer To Celebrate Christmas?
As a non-believer, I've heard many a wisecrack from my Christian friends as the holidays approach. They're all in good fun. There are good ones about decorating the 'Darwin tree,' singing science carols, or toys being delivered by Sagan Claus. While these are just friendly jabs between friends, they say a lot about society's attitudes on religious rituals, customs, and appropriation. Continue reading...



4.27.2011

Ask a Humanist, Vol. 3: What About Death?

(Part 3 of an ongoing, meandering stream of undefined scope.)

"I am not afraid of death, I just don't want to be there when it happens." - Woody Allen
Human beings are both blessed and cursed in that we evolved the cruel awareness of our own mortality.  We are cursed in that this awareness, combined with our fierce instinct of self-preservation, is the source of a great deal of fear and anxiety.  Yet we are blessed in that we can truly understand the great fortune we have been afforded by our very existence. This awareness also allows us to truly understand the value of each day we are alive.

It goes without saying that one of religion's major functions is to address the anxiety and fear that surrounds the concept of death, and to provide comfort for those who are facing death, as well as those who are left grieving after the death of a loved one.  The earliest archaeological evidence of religious thought is based on ritual treatment of the dead. Ritual burials signify not only an awareness of life and death, but also are strong indicators for belief in the afterlife. Of all the varieties of religious beliefs that have existed throughout history, very few were unconcerned with the promise of life after death.  After all, until very recently, with the advent of modern medicine, human life was fleeting. Death and religion have always been entwined. And, one would imagine, as long as religion exists, they will always be entwined.
"I was dead for millions of years before I was born and it never inconvenienced me a bit." - Mark Twain
For many of us who are not religious -- who are humanists, atheists, agnostics, and whatnot -- Twain hit the nail on the head. Death is simply the end of consciousness. We cannot remember anything about "life" before being born. That vast stretch of time prior to our birth existed without us. Why should we believe that the vast stretch of time following our death should be any different?  We have to stop and remind ourselves what comprises consciousness and the self.  Neither the self, nor consciousness, can carry on without our brains' billions of neurons and neuronal connections.  It is a fact that when we die, these neural processes stop. There is no evidence that any other secret metaphysical ingredient survives and is capable of simulating our organic brain, or carrying with it, like some celestial flash drive, the oceans of data stored in our gray matter.

What do we mean when we speak of a soul? Jesse Bering, Director of the Institute of Cognition and Culture and a Reader in the School of History and Anthropology at Queen’s University, states in his paper, The folk psychology of souls:
The soul is typically represented as the conscious personality of the decedent and the once animating force of the now inert physical form (Thalbourne 1996). Although there are many varieties of afterlife beliefs, each – at least implicitly – shares a dualistic view of the self as being initially contained in bodily mass and as exiting or taking temporary leave of the body at some point after the body’s expiration.
Mountains of literature, essays, poetry, and scientific papers have been devoted to death, and its stowaway passenger, the soul. We as humans seem incapable of conjuring a scenario in which we simply cease to exist. Certainly, the reasoning goes, we must go somewhere when we die.

The Spanish philosopher Miguel de Unamuno wrote:
Try to fill your consciousness with the representation of no-consciousness, and you will see the impossibility of it. The effort to comprehend it causes the most tormenting dizziness. We cannot conceive of ourselves as not existing.
It is not surprising that the concept of the soul evolved along with our self-awareness and our ability to understand our own mortality. However, despite the advancements in medicine and science, there has not been any evidence of the existence of a soul.

As V. S. Ramachandran, brain scientist at the University of California, San Diego, put it, there may be soul in the sense of "the universal spirit of the cosmos," but the soul as we have come to know it, "an immaterial spirit that occupies individual brains and that only evolved in humans — all that is complete nonsense ... basically superstition."

John F. Haught, a theologian at Georgetown University, has also written at length about the concept of the soul. He stated, "For many Americans the only way to preserve the discontinuity that’s implied in the notion of a soul, a distinct soul, is to deny evolution." Haught says this is unfortunate.

Nancey Murphy, a philosopher at Fuller Theological Seminary and ordained minister in the Church of the Brethren, wrote of souls:
"Evolutionary biology shows the transition from animal to human to be too gradual to make sense of the idea that we humans have souls while animals do not. All the human capacities once attributed to the mind or soul are now being fruitfully studied as brain processes — or, more accurately, I should say, processes involving the brain, the rest of the nervous system and other bodily systems, all interacting with the socio-cultural world."
In essence, what Murphy, and a host of other biologists, neuroscientists, and philosophers are saying, is: Yes, the concept of the soul is nice, but we can't prove that it's any more than a concept. When a plant dies, its plant soul does not leave the husk behind and embark on an eternal life elsewhere.  It simply ceases to live. Why would it be any different for humans, who share a common ancestor with that plant?  We did not evolve a soul, we evolved the capacity to entertain the concept of the soul.
"Life is full of misery, loneliness, and suffering - and it's all over much too soon." - Woody Allen
Life is short, and it is difficult. Of course we want life to have a sequel, preferably a longer one -- and strictly feel-good, this time around.

Neat concepts often develop into widespread beliefs (see: Noah's Ark, geocentrism, flat earth). Many of those beliefs seem silly to us now, but hindsight is 20/20. Until another explanation comes along which is obvious and is embraced by a majority of the population, those beliefs hang around. (For example, 16% of Americans believe people can cast curses or spells that cause harm to others.) But just because a concept is neat does not make it true. 

It makes sense that humans developed and perpetuated a belief in souls and the afterlife.  Until the Bronze Age, the average lifespan was in the lower- to mid-20s. Life was difficult, short, and uncertain.  Without the modern understanding of the way the brain works, or which bodily systems produce our senses of self and awareness (or without an understanding of the laws of nature in general) it would not have been terribly far-fetched to believe that when a person lost their life, it went somewhere. It is a comforting thought, especially when we lose a loved one, and even more so when we lose them too soon.

Which brings us to a question I hear often: "All of this sounds so cold and sad -- How do you find any comfort in it, and what do you tell your kids?"
"I don't want to achieve immortality through my work, I want to achieve it through not dying." - Woody Allen
I have written about the fact that, when I came to terms with my lack of religious belief, it was not without emotional impact. I would be lying to state that death doesn't bother me. As much as I accept the inevitability of death, it's not something I look forward to and hope to put off for as long as possible. But I have found that, in accepting that death is not a portal to some mysterious second chapter, I fear it less. I know that when I die, I will not miss life, for I won't feel or know anything -- just as it was before my life began.
"Living in the secular world gives us freedom from the dogmas and superstitions of the past, but it does not eliminate the mystery and power of life's endings. When parents share those essentially human feelings with their children, they are engaged in the profound task of making meaning together, which is one of the great privileges of parenthood, or indeed of any human relationship." - Rev. Dr. Kendyl Gibbons
In the book, Parenting Beyond Belief, Rev. Dr. Kendyl Gibbons writes with great wisdom and compassion about talking to children about death as secular parents. She states that "the particular challenge for secular parents is the absence of comforting answers supplied by doctrines and images from various faith traditions." Yet, she says, parents can equip their children with the necessary tools to understand death and accept it as a natural part of life, and to find meaning in their grief.

Gibbons details "Five Affirmations in the Face of Death." They are as follows (Note: Gibbons elaborates on each affirmation in detail -- the below are simply my own very brief summaries of each):
  1. Acknowledge the reality - Helping the child accept death's finality. They are trying to understand the way the world works.
  2. Validate sadness - Acknowledging and sharing in the reality of powerful feelings. Our sorrow is a function and measure of our love for the deceased.
  3. Acknowledge the unknown - Even adults cannot know what happens when we die, communicate our own ideas, but leave room for them to explore their own. Discuss what you, and others, may believe about death.
  4. Celebrate individuality - Each person is unique and irreplaceable. Memories are precious. Celebrate them, celebrate the life that was lived.
  5. Affirm the continuity of life - The universe remains dependable. Life goes on, and we have family, friends, love, nature, and all that we trusted can be trusted as before. The opportunity to share love is worth the pain of grief.
Death is not an easy topic, at any time, for any age.  But I have found that, in dealing with death in terms that that are not draped in superstition and dogma, we can address death as a necessary aspect of the natural world.  We can avoid the metaphysical trappings associated with many religious views of death: reward, punishment, wrath, grace.  Certainly, we wish to teach our children about those concepts as they relate to the natural world at an appropriate time, but it is important to acknowledge and accept the death of their loved one without supernatural baggage.  Such concepts detract from acknowledging that dying is as natural, and as much a part off life, as is being born.
"Everything has a natural explanation. The moon is not a god but a great rock and the sun a hot rock." - Anaxagorus, circa 475 BCE

What about near-death experiences? What about 90 Minutes in Heaven? What about the boy who met Jesus? What about the guy who went to Hell?

I will leave it to Mythbusters, and Skeptic Magazine to investigate some of those claims. But I will say that the great philosopher Anaxagoras, quoted above, was on to something way back then in 475 BCE. I will also say that we could all do well to invoke Occam's Razor when we hear such claims. Just because we can't understand something does not mean we need to accept the supernatural. As we make great strides in the relatively new field of neuroscience, we are learning more and more about the workings of the brain and the nervous system. A study by Lakhmir Chawla, an intensive care doctor at George Washington University medical center, adds to the growing body of evidence showing that near-death experiences (including sensations of leaving the body, visions of religious figures and loved ones, and the proverbial white light) may be caused by the cascade of electrical activity in the dying brain. Chalwa states, "We think the near-death experiences could be caused by a surge of electrical energy released as the brain runs out of oxygen. As blood flow slows down and oxygen levels fall, the brain cells fire one last electrical impulse. It starts in one part of the brain and spreads in a cascade and this may give people vivid mental sensations." Mental sensations that could be augmented by our vast store of mental images -- faces of deceased loved ones, religious figures, and other powerful memories. So, as Anaxagoras suggested, we are learning in this case that there may be a purely biological explanation for this once metaphysical phenomenon.  That's not to say that we must accept Dr. Chalwa's explanation as the truth, but such research reminds us that we still have much to learn about the power of the human brain. If we can dream such powerfully vivid dreams in times of health, it must be entirely possible to experience, during a surging fireworks display of electrical brain impulses associated with trauma, the vivid and fantastical narratives and imagery associated with the above near-death experiences.

The most important thing to me, as a secular parent, is to constantly be aware (and make my children aware) of our place in the vast timeline of history. We're only a tiny blip. The timeline is insanely long. And only within the last sliver of time have we begun to understand that the earth is round, that germs cause disease, that we share common ancestors with all living things (many still don't accept this). It's okay to not know everything. It's okay that some things will remain mysteries until that blip on the timeline has moved on a bit.  We should be suspicious of extraordinary claims for which there is no evidence. We have to be satisfied with what we do know.

Rev. Dr. Gibbons, in her essay mentioned above, states:

"For a secular person, the question is not 'Why did a universe designed for our benefit have to include death?' but 'Isn't it amazing that we have the matter of the world arranged in such a way that we find ourselves with this incredible opportunity for consciousness?' What is surprising is not that our awareness must cease to be at some point in the unknown future, but that it has arisen now in the first place. That we are able to think and feel, to learn things and to love people, is a gift. It might just as easily not have happened.  This gift of life is as arbitrary as the fact of mortality: both came about without consulting us. these are the terms on which we are here, and they are not negotiable."

I imagine that, to a religious person used to the doctrine of eternal life, the above might lack the comfort and reassurance afforded by religion. Nobody said non-belief was any easier. Having viewed life and death through both lenses, I can say that death is difficult no matter how you look at it.  At the end of the day, what is important is that, regardless of our beliefs, we find a way to come to peace with our mortality.
"I would love to believe that when I die I will live again, that some thinking, feeling, remembering part of me will continue. But much as I want to believe that, and despite the ancient and worldwide cultural traditions that assert an afterlife, I know of nothing to suggest that it is more than wishful thinking. The world is so exquisite with so much love and moral depth, that there is no reason to deceive ourselves with pretty stories for which there's little good evidence. Far better it seems to me, in our vulnerability, is to look death in the eye and to be grateful every day for the brief but magnificent opportunity that life provides." - Carl Sagan


Ask a Humanist

4.19.2011

Ask A Humanist, Vol. 2: Aren't You Denying Your Children the Opportunity to be Religious?

(This is Part 2 of an ongoing, meandering stream of undefined scope.)


There's a good joke about Unitarian Universalists. Q: "What's a Unitarian Universalist?" A: "An Atheist with children."

Religious jokes are funniest when there's an element of truth. I would never speak for Unitarian Universalists, but I have been to Unitarian Universalist services before, and I enjoyed them. Mostly because it was church without all the churchy things that make me uncomfortable about going to church. I enjoyed the music, the introspection, the communal aspects, all without the pressure to subscribe to a particular doctrine. (And yes, I realize that this is often what makes church church.) The general vibe of the services I have attended seemed to be: "Hey, it's more important that we come together as a community and celebrate the earth's broad spectrum of beliefs and philosophies than to split hairs over specific doctrines." Sure, the Unitarian church has a set of principles, but anyone can belong (even agnostics and humanists), and many religious traditions inform the service. During one particular service, I recall listening to readings from Martin Luther King, Jr., Susan B. Anthony, and at least two different holy books. So, yes, like the joke, it offered a great opportunity to introduce our children to church services without feeling dishonest about it.

Apart from being funny, the joke pinpoints a growing phenomenon in our society. Many people who were brought up in a major denomination are no longer affiliated with that denomination. Secularity is growing in all regions of the country. These people are otherwise normal people, and like religious folks, they are creating families. When their children reach the age where they start to be introduced to religious ideas, parents have to make some choices, and that presents some challenges and is a source of anxiety to many.

There are any number of ways to go about it, and I don't think that any of them are wrong. I personally know of married couples from "incompatible" religious backgrounds (I use the term "incompatible" in a purely doctrinal sense, since the couples themselves are actually quite compatible) who are no longer formally affiliated with either religion and raise their children in somewhat secular households where the children are exposed to both traditions. I also know of formerly religious married couples who are no longer very religious -- but choose to raise their children in the same structured religious background they experienced growing up. These are only a few examples of different approaches I have seen personally. Neither is more or less correct than the other.

Some of the more vocal non-believers have gone so far as to say that some forms of religious upbringing constitute child abuse.

Richard Dawkins has stated:

"Innocent children are being saddled with demonstrable falsehoods...It's time to question the abuse of childhood innocence with superstitious ideas of hellfire and damnation. Isn't it weird the way we automatically label a tiny child with its parents' religion?" 

Elsewhere he has stated:

"What can it mean to speak of a child's 'own' religion? Imagine a world in which it was normal to speak of a Keynesian child, a Hayekian child, or a Marxist child. Or imagine a proposal to pour government money into separate primary schools for Labour children, Tory children, LibDem children and Monster Raving Loony children? Everyone agrees that small children are too young to know whether they are Keynesian or Monetarist, Labour or Tory, too young to bear the burden of such labels. Why, then, is our entire society happy to slap a label like Catholic or Protestant, Muslim or Jew, on a tiny child? Isn't that, when you think about it, a kind of mental child abuse?" 

While Dawkins certainly makes some interesting, if abrasive, points, he tends to focus only on those parents who actually use the threat of hellfire in their child-rearing, or who go out of their way to label their children. As someone who grew up in a quite moderate religious household, I realize that many parents do not fit his description. However, as offensive as Dawkins' comments may be to some, it is worth asking ourselves if young children should be saddled with the theological concepts of eternal damnation, Satan, the Trinity, crucifixion, and the resurrection. It's an interesting thought experiment to imagine which religious label your child might wear if she were somehow birthed to parents in Kabul or Tel Aviv.

Obviously, for many who are religious, it is a no-brainer: the child will be taught at an early age to believe as the parents believe, because it is "true," is integral to the teaching of morality, and, as many believe, it is important to dedicate an infant to their own brand of religion (through Baptism or other rituals) as soon as possible, in the case of a an untimely childhood death.

However, for many of us who are not religious, or who do not subscribe to supernatural beliefs, these "no-brainers" do not apply. Morality predates the onset of monotheism, and evolved to promote community cohesiveness. Even today, it is important to be good for goodness' sake, for it is difficult to flourish in a society if one goes about murdering, lying, and cheating. And as for dedicating a child to a religion in the case of death -- with no evidence for an afterlife, humanists do not concern themselves with that 'what if.' Furthermore, even if there is a god, if a young child is sentenced to an eternal afterlife of hellfire, then, quite honestly, that god is a tyrannical monster.

Let me start by telling you what we don't do: We don't read Sam Harris and Christopher Hitchens books to them. We don't challenge their school's use of "Under God" in the Pledge of Allegiance. We don't pull our kids out of daycare because a prayer is said before lunch. We don't send them to school in a Flying Spaghetti Monster t-shirt on class picture day.  And we don't send them to atheist summer camp.

Despite our lack of religiosity as parents, we believe that it is of utmost importance to raise religiously literate children. Unless your children are homeschooled, or otherwise isolated from interacting frequently with others, they will stumble into any number of religious conversations, or be asked religious questions.  They will ask questions themselves. Religion informs every aspect of life on earth: politics, science, war, foreign policy, popular culture, law, education, art, literature, music, and so on. The histories and the beliefs of world religions are as important as the histories and political systems of governments.

In my family, although we don't pray or belong to a church, we do not shield our children from religion. We discuss it often. As various religious holidays approach, we learn about them together. We will often take part in religious activities, from a variety of religious traditions, and use these moments as an opportunity to explore the beliefs of different religions. We discuss the parts of the world where these traditions originate (and even when and why they may have originated). We take note of people here in our own community who may observe different religious holidays. We find ways to find meaning in these varying traditions as they might relate to our own lives, or as they relate to the people who practice said religion. We use opportunities, like the death of a pet, or a natural disaster, to discuss various religious ideas about suffering, death and dying.  As parents, we try to always say, "Many people believe this," or "Nobody knows for sure." And when we are asked point blank by our children, "What do you believe?" we are honest with them. Most often we respond that we are not certain ourselves, which is entirely true. Or we may state that we have a hard time accepting X or Y based on what we know about the universe. We ask our children from time to time if they would like to attend a church, or if they ever feel different for not belonging to one. Like many parents, we would do most anything (within reason) for our children, and we would not draw the line at taking them to church, if that were what they wanted.  But one thing we don't do as parents is state definitively that there is no God.  We wish to promote critical thinking and self-exploration, and want them to draw their own conclusions if and when they feel comfortable doing so.

We acknowledge the comfort that can come with certain beliefs ("It is nice to think that our pets and loved ones go to a wonderful place when they die, isn't it?"), without stating that whether this is true or false (how can we say for sure?) We may state that Grandma or Grandpa believes X or Y, or that this uncle or that aunt believes A or B. The important message is that all of these people whom we love believe many similar things, but they also may have some beliefs that are very different.

When it comes to holidays, as parents of Christian heritage, we participate to some degree in Christmas, Easter, and other Christian traditions. We talk about the stories from scripture associated with these holidays. If asked about whether these stories are true, we don't provide any definitive answer, but will state that many people do believe that these are true stories, whereas others believe they contain varying elements of myth. We will ask our children to think critically about the stories when they ask, and we support them if and when they wish to believe they are true.

Although we may not be practicing Christians, this is our heritage, and this connects us to our families and to our ancestors prior to their arrival in America. And certainly there is the power of nostalgia. Who does not like to revisit the feelings associated with joyful moments from our childhood? Christmas is a beautiful tradition, full of hope, joy, and peace. And to those who feel that by participating we are co-opting or secularizing their holiday, I would remind them that this 'co-opting' occurs with any number of holidays and cultural celebrations. Christians are certainly allowed to participate in the pagan Halloween ritual. And non-Irish folks can wear green on St. Patrick's Day and drink green beer if they desire.  It should also be pointed out that many of the Christmas rituals that my family takes part in (decorations, gift-giving, lights, etc.) predate the Christmas holiday, and were adopted from other winter festivals. Not that we need this as an excuse to participate in holiday rituals that have been in our families for generations and generations, but people often do like to point out what they see as 'have your cake and eat it too' hypocrisy.

We don't feel that we are in any way denying our children the opportunity to will be religious.  In fact, we would argue the opposite. Their religious beliefs, like ours, will be determined by their life experiences, and by the knowledge they accumulate as they navigate through these experiences. They know what God means to most people.  They know many of the key figures of The Bible and many of the more popular (and age-appropriate) narratives.  They know about Ramadan and Hanukkah.  They know about Buddha. They know about Zeus. We do our best to provide them with the tools to make their own decisions, but most importantly we hope to instill in them the understanding that religion comes in many forms.  It can be the source of much good in the world, and, like anything else, it can also be used to promote suffering.  We teach them that they must respect those who use religion for good, and that they must stand up for those who are unfairly maligned or who suffer unjustly as a result of religious beliefs. We reassure them that it is okay if their views on religion change over time, that their religious beliefs will continue to evolve throughout their entire lives, that they should never feel ashamed by their beliefs, and they should respect those who believe differently.

Many argue that by raising children in such a way does not ground them, or leads to confusion or a lack of identity. Or that they will be less likely to do good deeds if there is no promise of reward or punishment.  I would respond by stating that knowledge, literacy, open-mindedness, and compassion serve as a fine foundation for a child to shape their identity. Inherent in these traits is the understanding that to minimize suffering in the world is an imperative. To do harm is to ostracize yourself from your fellow human beings, and to cause destruction to the earth is to deny your descendants the same good fortune you have been afforded.  These are axioms on which a moral framework can be based. These ideas are far from being arbitrary or subjective. They are universal and nearly every religion in existence shares this framework. If and when a child aligns herself with a religious belief system, there is no requirement to undo the framework that is already in place. In short, this is a foundation on which one can layer any religious belief or philosophy.

Some religious folks might argue that it is our duty to impose religious beliefs on our children which we believe to be true. Many believe that we must plant the seeds early or perhaps lose them to a life without God.  I would respond to this by stating that if a religion is "true," then it should find its way to one who is navigating  life with compassion, critical thinking skills, and an open mind. And, just as a child who is taught at a young age that their race is better than another, a child who is taught that their religion is "better" or "truer" than the others is primed for prejudice before they have developed an awareness of religious diversity.

I am a liberal, Democrat, Red Sox fan, with an affinity for literature and coffee. I would not love my sons any less if they grew up to be Republican Yankee season ticket holders with no stomach for books or caffeine, as long as they got there honestly through life experience and critical thought. (Actually, I take that thing back about the Yankees.)

At the end of the day, we will be the first to admit that our approach may be experimental in some regards.  At times, we completely wing it. We absolutely are aware that, in some ways, our children may have a harder time than we did as a result of our approach. That is certainly not lost on us. As parents, both of us are raising our children, as it relates to religion, differently than either of us were raised by our own parents. And it is important to note that neither of us feel at all that our parents went about it the wrong way. For if they had not raised us the way they did, we would not be the people we are now. We would not have found each other, and we would not have had these wonderful children. Without the upbringing we each had, we would not have developed the confidence, the compassion, or the intuition to navigate this uncharted territory.

Luckily, secular parents have more resources today than they have had at any time in history.  Dale McGowan has edited and co-authored two wonderful books on non-religious parenting, Parenting Beyond Belief and Raising Freethinkers. The actress and comedienne Julia Sweeney has a fantastic one-woman show, Letting Go of God, in which she details with great compassion, insight, and humor her transition from Catholic nun-wannabe to secular adult and parent. There are secular parenting groups, charities, and other organizations popping up all across the globe. There are blogs, forums, and seminars. But as any parent would tell you, religious or not, parenting is something that, for the most part, does not come from a book.  And as John Lennon said, "Life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans."

When it comes down to it, all parents want the same thing: to raise healthy, compassionate children, and to equip them with all the tools they need to navigate through life. All of us are trying to do it as honestly as we can. This is just one of those ways.



Ask a Humanist

2.16.2011

Billy Ray Cyrus: Athiest 'Adopt-a-Highway' Sign Foretold Miley's Hell Spiral

If there's one thing that's clear from Billy Ray Cyrus's highly publicized GQ interview, it's that Mr. Soulpatch takes no responsibility whatsoever for Miley's troubles. He's blaming everything from Mickey Mouse to Hollywood for his failed marriage and poor parenting.

But this nugget, from page 5 of the interview, really lays it on thick:

"Somewhere along this journey," he says, "both mine and Miley's faith has been shaken. That saddens me the most." When they first came to Hollywood for Hannah Montana, the two of them would drive down the freeway together to the studio each morning, and every day Miley would point out the sign that said

ADOPT-A-HIGHWAY
ATHEISTS UNITED

Just before moving out to Los Angeles, the whole family had been baptized together by their pastor at the People's Church in Franklin, Tennessee. "It was Tish's idea," he remembers. "She said, 'We're going to be under attack, and we have to be strong in our faith and we're all going to be baptized...'" And there, driving to work each day in the City of Angels, was this sign. "A physical sign. It could have easily said 'You will now be attacked by Satan.' 'Entering this industry, you are now on the highway to darkness...'"

Do you really see it in such clearly spiritual terms—that your family was under attack by Satan?

"I think we are right now. No doubt. There's no doubt about it."

And why is that happening?

"It's the way it is. There has always been a battle between good and evil. Always will be. You think, 'This is a chance to make family entertainment, bring families together...' and look what it's turned into."

Perhaps Mr. Cyrus could have prevented some of his problems by focusing more on being together as a family.  Perhaps doing something that allowed his family to bond while doing something positive, like, say, adopting a highway.