One of those Inevitable Facebook Debates: Religion, Agnosticism, Time & Space

I recently had one of those inevitable FB discussions with some right-wing conservative Christians in which I was lumped in with atheists. I tried to explain that my lack of religion is no more a rejection of a deity than an independent voter's lack of party association is a rejection of government.

Here's part of that discussion in which I explain how my appreciation for the vastness of time and space tends to make it difficult for me to accept any form of religion as we know it:

Many people don't quite understand why people make a conscious decision to not identify with or follow a particular religion -- or no religion at all. Most of us did not reach this point without a great deal of contemplation. Many of us simply can't reconcile any of the existing religions with our understanding of the cosmos -- not with good conscience, anyway. We are not bad people. Morality can and does exist outside of religion.

13.8 billion years condensed into a calendar year

There have been many belief systems throughout time (and possibly throughout the cosmos by other intelligent beings millions of light years away from us), and there will be many other belief systems, possibly arising long after our likely inevitable extinction.

To discount such an acknowledgment is to deny the realities of the history of the cosmos and any and all life within it. We're a tiny blip on the timeline of the cosmos, as well as on the map of the cosmos, which contains at least 300 sextillion suns. That is a 3 followed by 23 zeros.

Perspective is a good thing.

I don't deny the existence of a deity. I simply acknowledge the reality of the vastness of time and space, and logic dictates that one religion which has only existed for a very brief sliver of time on one of billions (trillions, more?) of potential life-supporting planets, is probably not the one 'true' brand of religion. If it is, it's a very strange thing for a deity to do -- to drop a needle in an infinite haystack -- the one needle that will guarantee eternal life -- yet it is only available to the tiniest sliver of living beings (and only a portion of those, since many of them follow another religion due to geographical and historical influences, heritage, etc.), who happen to live on this one very extra-special planet (one of sextillions, likely many more) during an incredibly minuscule sliver of time -- also, let's drop this nugget on a small group of isolated desert-dwelling people who don't (can't) write things down.

If you were a deity, that would maybe be the absolute worst way possible to inform a cosmos (which you created) about your existence. It's hard to imagine that a deity, if he/she/it exists, would be that short-sighted, or that bad at marketing him/herself.

And if a deity made it possible for me to think logically about these things and it led me to being open-minded about the possibility of other paths of being a moral creature in this world, and I honestly gave it a good go for a good decade and a half, and continue to be as moral and ethical as I was then, why would he/she/it punish me eternally? Wouldn't he/she/it appreciate a well lived life of philosophical contemplation, empathy, and a determination to reduce suffering?

What Is Humanism?: A Video Featuring Richard Dawkins, AC Grayling & Tim Minchin

Via The British Humanist Association:

Humanism is sometimes mistaken for another form of religion, or something which is very complex. Here, some well known humanists explain that all humanism really is, is people wanting to live ethical and happy lives, thinking for themselves, without religion imposing its own morals on them which are not necessarily compatible with living ethically today.

The below video, created by the BHA, features Richard Dawkins, AC Grayling, Phillip Pullman, Tim Minchin, and others.

Watch:

Religious Morality Is Broken

Something appears to be wrong with religious morality.

If we were to make an assessment from the following recent news headlines, we might say that religious morality is broken:

North Carolina Pastor Sean Harris: Parents Should 'Punch' Their Effeminate Children

'Several dead' and 41 injured in Nigeria as militants attack two Sunday church services

Taliban bombing kills eight in Afghanistan

Faith-healing couple from Okanogan County take plea in son's death

Broken Arrow Woman On Trial For Refusing Medical Care For Dying Son

Pastor calls for death of gays, lesbians

Afghan arsonists seek to enforce truancy from school

Israeli Girl, Bullied By Jewish Ultra-Orthodox Extremists

Florida Pastor Hangs Obama Effigy Outside of Church

Tony Perkins on LGBT Pride Month: Why not 'Adultery Pride Month' or 'Drunkenness Pride Month'?

Fischer: 'It is Altogether Right to Discriminate Against Homosexual Behavior'

While these headlines are associated with a variety of religious figures from a variety of religions in different parts of the world, they have more in common with one another than you might think.

In each case, common sense, compassion, and empathy have been outright rejected in favor of a flawed morality based on religious doctrine. In each instance, religious ideology dictates that the infliction of discrimination, oppression, suffering, or death is validated by the belief that these actions please a supernatural being.

There is something terribly wrong with this type of ideology. It is incompatible with the goal of lessening suffering in the world. It is incompatible with peace. It is incompatible with progress. It is incompatible with a humanity that values the well-being of living things.

The problem here is that holy books say some crazy things -- things that advanced modern societies know better than to embrace. We know that rape, theft, slavery, and murder are not conducive to maintaining a healthy, flourishing society. It does not take a holy book for us to know this.

Philosopher Theodore Schick writes:

According to Divine Command Theory, nothing is right or wrong unless God makes it so. Whatever God says goes. So if God had decreed that adultery was permissible, then adultery would be permissible.

Let's take this line of reasoning to its logical conclusion. If the Divine Command Theory were true, then the Ten Commandments could have gone something like this: "Thou shalt kill everyone you dislike. Thou shalt rape every woman you desire. Thou shalt steal everything you covet. Thou shalt torture innocent children in your spare time. ..." The reason that this is possible is that killing, raping, stealing, and torturing were not wrong before God made them so. Since God is free to establish whatever set of moral principles he chooses, he could just as well have chosen this set as any other.

In other words, human beings have the capacity to discern which religious edicts are ill-advised, inhumane, or antiquated. We do not require another religious edict to tell us this. We simply rely on our sense of compassion and our morality, both of which have evolved over millions of years (and which were evolving long before monotheism took hold.)

The Dalai Lama writes:

Certainly religion has helped millions of people in the past, helps millions today and will continue to help millions in the future. But for all its benefits in offering moral guidance and meaning in life, in today’s secular world religion alone is no longer adequate as a basis for ethics. One reason for this is that many people in the world no longer follow any particular religion. Another reason is that, as the peoples of the world become ever more closely interconnected in an age of globalization and in multicultural societies, ethics based in any one religion would only appeal to some of us; it would not be meaningful for all.

What we need today is an approach to ethics which makes no recourse to religion and can be equally acceptable to those with faith and those without: a secular ethics.

Many say that without religion, we would not know the difference between right and wrong. If a commandment is the only thing keeping us from murdering other people, we humans are a pretty lousy bunch.

As Michael Shermer states, "As a species of social primates, we have evolved a deep sense of right and wrong to accentuate and reward reciprocity and cooperation and to attenuate and punish excessive selfishness and free riding."

Sadly, however, we see stories every single day in the news in which humans use religious ideology to undermine cooperation, to reject reciprocity, and to validate selfishness, oppression, discrimination, and violence.

While it would be unwise (and incorrect) to suggest that all religious morality is inferior to secular morality, or that the above laundry list of religious moral failings is representative of all religious ideology (it isn't), we must accept that it is the religious ideology that which serves to validate the behavior in each example. Those individuals were not incited by reason.

Fundamentalism is the problem. It is the unwavering adherence to Bronze Age religious doctrine that allows hatred to disguised itself as morality.

Theodore Schick:

Fundamentalists correctly perceive that universal moral standards are required for the proper functioning of society. But they erroneously believe that God is the only possible source of such standards. Philosophers as diverse as Plato, Immanuel Kant, John Stuart Mill, George Edward Moore, and John Rawls have demonstrated that it is possible to have a universal morality without God. Contrary to what the fundamentalists would have us believe, then, what our society really needs is not more religion but a richer notion of the nature of morality.

Where, then, you might ask, should we receive our moral code, if we are not to rely on scripture?

Astrophysicist Neil DeGrasse Tyson has a pretty simple way of approaching this problem:

“For me, I am driven by two main philosophies: know more today about the world than I knew yesterday and lessen the suffering of others. You'd be surprised how far that gets you.”

Freud, Marx & Darwin: The Trinity of Secular Humanism?

The loons over at Liberty Counsel apparently know more about secular humanism than I do, and I'm a secular humanist.

The Holy Trinity

They've been a-scared of secular humanism for some time, having stated that secular humanism is "a religion with no God," and claiming that it has become the established religion of the United States of America. I must have missed both of those memos.

Oh, and by the way, guys, secular humanism is not a religion. It's a philosophy, a worldview. And it happens to reject anything resembling what you might describe as religion, but let's not get caught up in semantics.

Today, on Liberty Counsel's 'Faith & Freedom' radio show, Shawn Akers stated that secular humanism has its own Holy Trinity: Freud, Marx, & Darwin.

I'll tell you something that's really interesting, Ron. There was a poet by the name of William Butler Yeats wrote a poem called "The Second Coming" around the early 1900s and his idea was that every two thousand years, a new God arises. And it was kind of striking that, after two thousand years after Christ, about the time that Yeats wrote this poem, no new God was to be found, or at least we didn't think so.

But it was about that time Darwin came on the scene and told us that you really created yourself by dragging yourself out of the primordial ooze and evolving faster then all the other species. And Marx came along and told us really that religion is the opiate of the masses, that if you're going to be fed, you're going to feed yourself. And then Freud came along and said if you don't feel good about yourself, don't look to a god to heal you, you got to dig down deep in yourself through psychoanalysis and you're your own counselor.

What I find interesting about that, Ron, is that we took the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit - the father that told us where we came from, that I created you in the beginning, we took the Son that said I'll tell you that I'm going to feed you and heal you and tell you how to find your substance, and we took the counselor, the Holy Spirit, and we put Freud in his place and said you counsel yourself.

In other words, the new god that arose under Yeats' scheme was secular humanism. It was making man god.

Funny thing is, as a secular humanist, I don't claim to know very much about Marx at all, and all I really know about Freud is what I learned in an introductory psychology course in college. I haven't read works by either. (I'm not really bragging about this, it's just the ugly truth.) I know plenty about Darwin, but mostly because he stumbled across the most one of the most important scientific concepts ever generated, and because I am very interested in biology.

See, the idea that we should seek to maximize human fulfillment through science, reason, and secular values does not require any particular figureheads. Sure, there are individuals who, through their discoveries, philosophies, and teachings, help to make sense of the universe as we navigate our lives. But that's all they do. They are not messianic. They are not martyrs. They are simply other human beings whose insights may or may not augment our non-religious approach to life.

So if this is my Holy Trinity, I am probably going to flunk my secular humanism confirmation classes.

Watch:

A Godless Proposal: A Kinder, Gentler Atheist

I'm not much of a joiner. I have a hard time affiliating with organizations whose policies or ideologies I can't fully embrace.

I fully admit to doing so from time to time (I am a registered Democrat, after all). If we went through life only aligning with organizations, products, services, and politicians with which we agree 100%, we would probably be living off the grid in adobes, wearing loin cloths.

But when it comes to social and civic organizations, charities, and such, I'm skittish. I have avoided the Boy Scouts for their discrimination against homosexuals and atheists. I stopped dropping money in the Salvation Army kettles since I learned of their LGBT policies.

So, when a secular, pro-equality fellow like myself looks for kindred spirits, often he is pointed to secular and atheist organizations. They have become plentiful in the past decade, thanks in part to the internet and the rise in popularity of secular/atheist books, blogs, and websites -- all of which have helped many non-believers come out of hiding.

I am quite fond of many secular organizations and their members. I applaud many of their fantastic philanthropic projects, awareness campaigns, community-building initiatives, and the support systems they provide and foster. However, I have trouble committing to some of them due to philosophical differences.

Although I am a non-believer who came from a religious background, I am not the least bit resentful about my religious past (I grew up in a fairly liberal Methodist church). Unlike some who have left the church, I did not leave in disgust, or because of a bad experience. I left the church, and religion, simply because I could no longer admit that I accepted the doctrine beliefs. I did not believe, and therefore, I didn't belong there anymore. It would be like continuing to show up for piano lessons after having one's fingers amputated.

At times, I cringe at some of the undertakings of my fellow secularists. Take, for example, some of the holiday-themed initiatives. There are nativity brouhahas in Santa Monica and Athens, TX. There was the crucified skeleton Santa display in Leesburg, VA. There are the evergreen battles to remove 'Under God' from the Pledge of Allegiance. There are in-your-face campaigns that tend to condescend to believers by claiming Jesus is a myth, or that there probably is no God.

To be clear, I do understand these endeavors. I get the sentiment. I don't disagree one bit that nativity scenes (or statues of Jesus, or engravings of the ten commandments) on government property are completely at odds with the Constitution's Establishment Clause. I don't disagree that it is rude to only acknowledge the Christian winter holiday this time of year. I don't disagree that much of the Bible (or much of religion) is mythical in nature. And I certainly don't disagree that non-believers are essentially invisible to society and to the government.

What I'm not crazy about is the antagonistic nature of some of the campaigns. (And I do realize that many atheists would not see these as antagonistic -- it depends on one's perspective, to be sure.)

I also tend to think that there are other, more important issues to address -- issues that can be addressed without further alienating ourselves. Is the removal of 'under God' in the pledge really more important than ensuring our kids learn about evolution in schools? Is it really that important that we insert ourselves into Christmas tree and nativity scene turf wars when we could funnel that time and energy into educating people about the science behind gender and sexuality and combating the religion-based bigotry that drives many LGBT teens to suicide?

I think it is difficult to gain acceptance and respect by systematically antagonizing average citizens who happen to be religious (many of which don't share the same religious views that we may find harmful). Part of my reluctance to antagonize is because I am still very close to my religious family members (and they are supportive and understanding of my secular approach to life), and I have many religious friends who share most of my political and social ideologies -- they just happen to also believe in God. I don't like throwing these people out with the bathwater.

While I certainly do not refrain from ridiculing specific religious beliefs or ideologies which cause harm or perpetuate bigotry (just ask any of my Facebook friends), I don't think that a scorched earth approach accomplishes much, except for furthering the stereotype that atheists are angry, smug, antagonistic, condescending, untrustworthy, and lacking in morals.

Call me crazy, but I tend to think that there is a particular group of people that can be extremely helpful to non-believers in combating negative stereotypes, and reaching some of our goals: progressive Christians. Christian writers such as John Shore, Mark Sandlin, and organizations such as The Christian Left, Believe Out Loud, and the Clergy Letter Project, are more closely aligned with the values of secular folks than one might imagine. These folks are progressives. They are pro-equality, pro-science, pro-evolution, and they have the same distaste for theocratic politicians as we do. They get angry when Christians use scripture to validate bigotry, or to deny overwhelming scientific evidence. They, too, are often maligned, berated, and threatened by Christians.

We are so focused on the fact that we disagree on the big questions that we don't see that we agree on all of the other ones. All of us want evolution taught in schools, religious dogma out of politics, and equal treatment for all. All of us want progress. All of us long for a time in America when the thought of a Bachmann, Santorum, Perry, or Palin in the White House is closer to science fiction than reality.

My Christian family and friends remind me that, for many people, religion does have a lot to offer. I am also reminded that these people are important to promoting progressive causes within their churches and their religious communities. They are much better positioned to do so than you or I.

I realize that there are many atheists and non-believers who long for a day when religion is a curious phenomenon we read about in history books. While it is likely that humans will evolve to a point where religion takes a different form (and perhaps a less-prominent role), I have a hard time believing that religion will become extinct. We would be wise to accept this, and focus instead on combating the aspects of religion that can be harmful, specifically religion-based bigotry, scriptural literalism, and anti-science ideologies. We can accomplish these things without attacking religion as a whole. As the saying goes, 'use a scalpel, not an ax.'

That's not to say that there is no place for the angry, antagonistic atheist-- there absolutely is. We need the Dawkinses, the Hitchenses, the Harrises, and the Dennetts, just as we need any uncompromising figures in a variety of disciplines to open our eyes and challenge our long-held beliefs. We need people who shake us out of slumber. We need these uncompromising atheists, just as we need lightning rods to expose animal cruelty, government corruption, environmental threats, and social injustices. However, when we all follow suit (and especially when less-eloquent and less-tactful individuals follow suit), we can lose respect, we can perpetuate stereotypes, and, in the end, we are left preaching to the godless choir.

I have had a great deal of success, on a small scale, engaging the religious by discussing particular aspects of theology that trouble me. I will often leave behind any arguments about the existence or non-existence of God. Instead, I address specific religious ideologies which contribute to science denialism, bigotry, misogyny, and social injustice.

Isn't a world in which the godless and the faithful share similar objectives better than a world where the godless are continually at war with the faithful? Which of these two scenarios is more likely to lead to a more secular society? Which is more likely to lead to a progressive culture characterized by tolerance, equality, evidence-based policy, respect for people of all faiths (or no faith), and clearer boundaries between church and state?

I believe that such a reality is possible. I also believe we are more likely to reach it through building bridges than by digging chasms.

I came to my secular worldview on my own terms. Nobody twisted my arm or ridiculed me into disbelief. It was through calm, deliberate reflection and critical thought. It required a casual exploration of literature and self-education in the areas of science, philosophy, and history. For many like myself, with strong ties to the church and people of faith, condescension and antagonism would have made that transition more difficult. For some, it might completely halt such a transition.

The best way to convince a meat-eater to become a vegan is not to erect a sign in front of their house complete with images of slaughtered animals and condescending remarks labeling that individual as ignorant and ethically bankrupt. A more effective approach might be to politely suggest that it's possible to live a healthy life without eating meat or using animal products.  One is more likely to create more vegans by letting others know that it's not easy, and that it's not for everyone, but that it can be a fulfilling and healthy way to live. Providing educational resources and support, and engaging others in polite discussion, is much more effective than an aggressive onslaught of condescension, ridicule, and judgment.

When I first explained that I was no longer a believer to my mother, she said, "Well, just don't call yourself an atheist." It was a funny statement, to be sure, but very telling. First of all, it said to me that my mother still loved me. Secondly, while she wasn't so upset about the non-belief part, she was well aware of the stigma attached to that word and felt I was too good of a person to deserve such derision.

That stigma will go away eventually. (The Tea Party is now more disliked than atheists.) We can choose to blame the religious for this stigma, and further alienate ourselves, or we can choose to erase the stigma by being living examples of that stigma's inaccuracy.

Maybe we can get some work done while we're at it.

Are Shifts In Religious Morality The Result Of Secular Pressures?

Recently, over at Professor Jerry Coyne's blog, there was a discussion about a female pastor in South Carolina who had abandoned her religious teachings about sexual behavior in favor of practical measures such as handing out condoms and urging people to get tested for HIV.

A reader of Coyne's blog stated that this was a prime example of "religion being pushed into a moral change, not by any theistic insight, but through applying basic secular morality to the situation."

Coyne added:

...There’s neither a method nor an inherent trend in theology to reassess and alter its moral stands in view of changing conditions. Religious morality appears to change under only two conditions: either secular morality moves ahead of religious morality, causing it to change (e.g., treatment of women and gays or, in this case, condom use and birth control), or scientific advances show that the scriptural basis of religious morality is simply wrong (e.g., there’s no Adam and Eve and hence no Original Sin).

If a religion’s moral dictates remain fixed in stone for centuries, even under the press of secular advances, then that religion loses adherents. This, of course, is what is happening to Catholicism in so many places.

This sentiment is something that I have spent considerable time debating with friends and acquaintances -- the fact that religious morality is quite often inferior to a morality derived from secular values. In other words, there are many instances of morality in religion which, despite being handed down by a supreme deity, actually cause harm to others and diminish overall well-being. In many instances, not only is harm directly inflicted on others, but the groundwork is laid for a pattern of suffering, and for an extension of suffering into other areas of humanity.

For example, we know that religion is, more often than not, the source of anti-LGBT bigotry. It is rare to hear an argument against homosexuality or same-sex marriage that does not invoke religion. Yet, we are starting to see an evolution in some religious bodies, as some churches are beginning to soften their stance on homosexuality. I don't believe you would see many instances of religious bodies initiating these changes on their own, without pressure from outside. Most often, we see secular shifts in attitudes (pro-LGBT equality sentiment in popular culture, the legalization of same-sex marriage or the extension of benefits to same-sex partners) long before we see major shifts in attitudes within religious bodies. This seems to be the same cycle to which Coyne is referring.

An excerpt of the Dalai Lama's forthcoming book, Beyond Religion: Ethics For A Whole World, was recently posted on The Huffington Post.

In his book, the Dalai Lama urges humanity to accept a "new model for mutual respect and understanding - rooted in our shared humanity - between religious believers and non-believers."

The excerpt dovetailed nicely with the sentiment expressed in Coyne's blog post.

The Dalai Lama writes:

Certainly religion has helped millions of people in the past, helps millions today and will continue to help millions in the future. But for all its benefits in offering moral guidance and meaning in life, in today’s secular world religion alone is no longer adequate as a basis for ethics. One reason for this is that many people in the world no longer follow any particular religion. Another reason is that, as the peoples of the world become ever more closely interconnected in an age of globalization and in multicultural societies, ethics based in any one religion would only appeal to some of us; it would not be meaningful for all. In the past, when peoples lived in relative isolation from one another -- as we Tibetans lived quite happily for many centuries behind our wall of mountains -- the fact that groups pursued their own religiously based approaches to ethics posed no difficulties. Today, however, any religion-based answer to the problem of our neglect of inner values can never be universal, and so will be inadequate. What we need today is an approach to ethics which makes no recourse to religion and can be equally acceptable to those with faith and those without: a secular ethics.

I am confident that it is both possible and worthwhile to attempt a new secular approach to universal ethics. My confidence comes from my conviction that all of us, all human beings, are basically inclined or disposed toward what we perceive to be good. Whatever we do, we do because we think it will be of some benefit. At the same time, we all appreciate the kindness of others. We are all, by nature, oriented toward the basic human values of love and compassion. We all prefer the love of others to their hatred. We all prefer others’ generosity to their meanness. And who among us does not prefer tolerance, respect and forgiveness of our failings to bigotry, disrespect and resentment?

The Dalai Lama isn't speaking directly to the secular pressures upon religious bodies to change their morality. However, in so many words, he is saying that religious morality is inferior to secular morality in terms of obtaining a universal state of minimized suffering and an increased overall well-being for humanity.

While I normally would not compare the Dalai Lama with Sam Harris, it would be egregious to avoid mentioning the similarity of the Dalai Lama's premise with that of Sam Harris' in The Moral Landscape. In his book, Harris argues that "morality must relate, at some level, to the well-being of conscious creatures...if there are more and less effective ways for us to seek happiness and to avoid misery in this world—and there clearly are—then there are right and wrong answers to questions of morality."

Harris, on the flawed morality of the Catholic Church:

Consider the Catholic Church: an organization that advertises itself as greatest force for good and as the only true bulwark against evil in the universe. Even among non-Catholics, its doctrines are widely associated with the concepts of “morality” and “human values.” However, the church is an organization that excommunicates women for attempting to become priests but does not excommunicate male priests for raping children. It excommunicates doctors who perform abortions to save a mother’s life—even if the mother is a 9-year-old girl raped by her stepfather and pregnant with twins—but it did not excommunicate a single member of the Third Reich for committing genocide. (It excommunicated Joseph Goebbels, but this was for the high crime of marrying a Protestant.) This is an organization that is more concerned about stopping contraception than stopping genocide. It is more worried about gay marriage than about nuclear proliferation. Are we really obliged to consider such a diabolical inversion of priorities to be evidence of an alternative “moral” framework? No. I think it is clear that the church is as misguided in speaking about the “moral” peril of contraception, for instance, as it would be in speaking about the “physics” of Transubstantiation. In both domains, it true to say that the church is grotesquely confused about which things in this world are worth paying attention to. The church is not offering an alternative moral framework; it is offering a false one.

History offers many examples of secular morality effecting change in religious morality. Although there are still examples of public stoning being validated by religious belief, it is not tolerated by most religious bodies, despite its prevalence in scripture. Biblical instructions on how to keep slaves are ignored. Many churches now allow women clergy. These are but a few examples of shifting morality within religious institutions. Most often the shifts occurred as the actions, commands, or instructions in scripture became viewed as incompatible with society by those outside of the church. Sure, religious people have played a role in shifting morality from within (religious people have certainly been instrumental throughout history in condemning slavery, segregation, anti-LGBT bigotry, etc.), but it is often a case of the religious rejecting religious doctrine.

In other words, even though there are examples of religious justification for the rejection of doctrine (i.e. 'Jesus said love thy neighbor, therefore I cannot condemn my homosexual neighbor), we must not lose sight of the fact that such examples are a rejection of religion-based morality (i.e. 'homosexuality is an abomination.')

As the Dalai lama suggests (as does Harris, to a lesser degree), a secular morality does not require that one discard religion. However, both point out that we cannot rely on religion to dictate our shared morality. We must, instead, seek common denominators in a universal morality: morality which meets the criteria of a secular morality (i.e. 'acting with the intention of reducing suffering and maximizing well-being for all'). Both Harris and the Dalai Lama state that if our religious morality dictates that we act in a way that does not reduce suffering or maximize well-being, then that particular piece of guidance should be rejected.

The Dalai Lama writes:

I am of the firm opinion that we have within our grasp a way, and a means, to ground inner values without contradicting any religion and yet, crucially, without depending on religion. The development and practice of this new system of ethics is what I propose to elaborate in the course of this book. It is my hope that doing so will help to promote understanding of the need for ethical awareness and inner values in this age of excessive materialism.

At the outset I should make it clear that my intention is not to dictate moral values. Doing that would be of no benefit. To try to impose moral principles from outside, to impose them, as it were, by command, can never be effective. Instead, I call for each of us to come to our own understanding of the importance of inner values. For it is these inner values which are the source of both an ethically harmonious world and the individual peace of mind, confidence and happiness we all seek. Of course, all the world’s major religions, with their emphasis on love, compassion, patience, tolerance and forgiveness, can and do promote inner values. But the reality of the world today is that grounding ethics in religion is no longer adequate. This is why I believe the time has come to find a way of thinking about spirituality and ethics that is beyond religion.

There are many current examples of religious morality that does not meet this 'common denominator' requirement. In Uganda, we are seeing faulty religious morality in the Kill-the-Gays bill. Here in the US, Michigan's anti-bullying bill protects religious tormentors. The Catholic church is attempting to ban insurance coverage of contraception, despite the fact that the pill is crucial to the treatment of many women's health issues unrelated to contraception. Same-sex marriage opponents cite religious reasons for the denial of rights to LGBT citizens. Each of these instances of religious morality, among many others, result in the suffering of others, as well as a diminishing of the well-being of entire swaths of the population. Such religious morality is inferior to secular morality. You will be hard-pressed to find a plurality of secular justification for the same moral conclusion.

It is because of secular pressures that we will eventually see shifts in religious morality. Regardless of the resistance to change, one would be foolish to predict that religion will not eventually budge on each of the above stances (and others).

While it is true that many religious people are pushing for similar change, we must remember that they are pushing for the rejection of religious morality according to doctrine. They are pushing for their religion to embrace attitudes already embraced by a secular morality based on the enhancement of human well-being and individual responsibility, and the elimination of human suffering.

Scooby Doo, Skepticism & Secular Humanism

I was always a big fan of Scooby Doo as a child. I hadn't watched it in years until I had children of my own. Watching the show again as a skeptic and a Secular Humanist, it wasn't lost on me that, at the end of every episode, we are reminded that there are no such things as ghosts.

Aside from being good fun for the kids, Scooby Doo teaches us that we shouldn't believe everything, that sometimes you need to roll up your sleeves to get to the bottom of things, and that even the most bizarre phenomenon has a natural explanation.

Chris Sims at Comics Alliance has spent considerable time thinking about this, apparently. He has penned a post called Scooby-Doo and Secular Humanism. I probably wouldn't have run across it had it not been BoingBoing'ed today (they called the cartoon the 'Veggie Tales for Secular Humanists' -- heh).

Chris writes:

Because that's the thing about Scooby-Doo: The bad guys in every episode aren't monsters, they're liars.

I can't imagine how scandalized those critics who were relieved to have something that was mild enough to not excite their kids would've been if they'd stopped for a second and realized what was actually going on. The very first rule of Scooby-Doo, the single premise that sits at the heart of their adventures, is that the world is full of grown-ups who lie to kids, and that it's up to those kids to figure out what those lies are and call them on it, even if there are other adults who believe those lies with every fiber of their being. And the way that you win isn't through supernatural powers, or even through fighting. The way that you win is by doing the most dangerous thing that any person being lied to by someone in power can do: You think.

But it's not just that the crooks in Scooby-Doo are liars; nobody ever shows up to bilk someone out of their life savings by pretending to be a Nigerian prince or something. It's always phantasms and Frankensteins, and there's a very good reason for that. The bad guys in Scooby-Doo prey on superstition, because that's the one thing that an otherwise rational person doesn't really think through. It's based on belief, not evidence, which is a crucial element for the show. If, for example, someone knocks on your door and claims to be a police officer, you're going to want to see a badge because that's the tangible evidence that you've come to expect to prove their claim. If, however, you hold the belief that the old run-down theater has a phantom in the basement, then the existence of that phantom himself -- or at least a reasonably convincing costume -- is all the evidence that you need to believe that you were right all along. The bad guys are just reinforcing a belief that the other characters already have, and that they don't need any evidence before because it's based in superstition, not reason.

... To paraphrase G.K. Chesterton, Scooby Doo has value not because it shows us that there are monsters, but because it shows us that those monsters are just the products of evil people who want to make us too afraid to see through their lies, and goes a step further by giving us a blueprint that shows exactly how to defeat them.

Ask A Humanist, 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.

We have all witnessed the War on Christmas that erupts each year (mostly fabricated by Fox News and the Christian right). We have all been beaten over the head with Black Friday commercialization and the ensuing endless stream of secular Christmas specials devoid of any mention of Jesus (save for good ol' Charlie Brown).

There is a sentiment felt by many Christians that non-Christians shouldn't be able to join the party. For a long time in America, it was the Jews who sat on the sidelines while Santa delivered sack-loads of toys to their Christian neighbors. Now, as the non-religious population has become a sizable demographic (the so-called 'religious nones'), many Christians are dismayed, and perhaps bewildered, to not see them sitting on the sidelines as well.


Heritage

Just as non-practicing Jews often participate in the rituals associated with their heritage, many non-Christians who grew up in Christian households still find comfort in the rituals associated with their Christian heritage.  We do, after all, come from Christian cultural roots.

I grew up in a religious household. We celebrated Christmas each year in the same way that most Christians do. We decked the halls, wrote letters to Santa, decorated a tree, hung wreaths, lit candles, baked cookies, opened Advent calendars, set up a table-top nativity scene, sang carols, wrapped gifts, and reflected upon the birth of Jesus and the real meaning of Christmas.

My parents participated in these same rituals and customs growing up, as did their parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and so on. I imagine that my family's Christmas customs are nearly as old as the customs themselves.

Like non-practicing Jews who light the Menorah at Hanukkah, the customs associated with Christmas are important to who I am and where I came from, whether or not I personally accept Christianity's claims. (I don't -- and this conclusion was not arrived upon easily.)


Nostalgia

I have wonderful childhood memories of Christmastime. It is a time of wonder and joy for any child who experiences it. Some of these memories are as powerful, and as comforting, as any memories I have.

It is no coincidence that retailers infuse the air with the smells of cinnamon, pine, and cider during the Holidays. We are psychological beings, and our memories carry deep associations with sights, sounds, and smells of our experiences. Just as we might like playing a particular song that connects us with a specific joyous experience, partaking in the sights and sounds of the holidays can elicit many of the feelings we experienced at a simpler, more innocent time in our lives. We also find pleasure in sharing these memories, and making new memories, with our own children.

Participating in the customs and rituals associated with Christmas, despite our religious conviction (or lack thereof), is a beautiful way of appreciating and strengthening our bond with the past, of passing this gift of heritage along to our children, and of extending these bonds into another generation. Whether or not the next generations choose to believe in the tenets of Christianity is up to each of them. I don't wish to deprive them of that opportunity.


Appropriation

So, sure, all this sounds great, but still, isn't it just a case of having your cake and eating it too?

If participating in the customs of my ancestors despite lacking the same beliefs is wrong, then a whole lot of customs we participate in each year are wrong as well.

The Christmas narrative in and of itself has many similarities to other religions that pre-date Christianity, suggesting that elements may have been borrowed. Jesus was not the first miracle-worker born to a virgin who would later be crucified and resurrected.

The date of Christmas was chosen to coincide with winter festivals that pre-date the holiday. The ancient Roman festival of Saturnalia featured gift-giving, visiting with friends and loved ones, the lighting of candles, and a feast. Pagan Scandinavia celebrated Yule, for 'a fertile, and peaceful season,' with customs such as the Yule log, singing, and the Yule boar (reflected today in the Christmas ham). Koleda, an ancient Slavic ritual celebrating death and rebirth, featured a custom of roving from home to home singing songs and receiving gifts. Christmas customs related to greenery, lights, and charity pre-date Christmas and were likely adopted from Roman New Year celebrations.

Anyone with a knowledge of religious customs throughout the ages would agree that there are not many Christmas customs that did not exist prior to the holiday's origin.

Despite the mixed religious roots of Santa Claus, he is largely a secular phenomenon, along with Rudolph, Frosty the Snowman, and other recent staples associated with the season. Puritans, in fact, opposed celebration of Christmas at all for nearly two centuries because of its secular and pagan associations.

We can point to any number of holidays that Americans participate in despite not really 'deserving' to celebrate them. We don't need to be religious, or Irish, to wear green and drink a pint of Guinness on St. Patrick's Day.  We don't need to be Mexican to have nachos and a Corona on Cinco de Mayo. We don't need to believe in pagan supernaturalism to dress up on Halloween and trick-or-treat. The eggs and bunnies associated with Easter (named, of course, for the goddess Ēostre of Anglo-Saxon paganism) are customs that millions of non-pagans enjoy each year.

So, really, this business of appropriation is nothing new. As it says in Ecclesiastes 1:9 (although I'm sure it was said before), "There is no new thing under the sun."


The Message of Christmas Is A Good One

Just as one doesn't need to be African-American to acknowledge the importance of what Martin Luther King, Jr. stood for, one needn't be a Christian to acknowledge the importance of the philosophies associated with Jesus.

You really couldn't ask for a greater message: Love everyone, regardless.  Extend kindness to all, even those who you may feel are undeserving. Always strive for justice and peace. Be charitable, and be forgiving. 

Whether or not I actually believe that a historical Jesus preached this message, and whether or not I accept that this figure was born of a virgin, was the son of God, worked miracles, was crucified, was resurrected, and ascended bodily into heaven, the philosophies associated with Jesus are certainly worthy of observance.

We could do much worse than spending a portion of our year with a heightened sense of awareness of these sentiments. These philosophies are certainly not unique to Christianity, nor were they new philosophies at the time Jesus would have lived, but his message, as well as his story, was a big part of my family's heritage and was a big part of my own childhood. Acknowledging this through the the observance of long-practiced family customs and rituals is anything but dishonest.


Doing What Works

There are many Humanists and non-believers who choose to refrain from participating in religious holiday traditions. There is certainly nothing wrong with that. There are degrees of non-belief.

While I may reject supernatural and religious dogma as a basis for morality, I don't reject religion as a whole. I don't discount the benefits many receive from religion, and I certainly understand and accept the concept of sacredness.

I am lucky in that I live in a society that holds dear the right to religious freedom. In my home, we exercise this right by participating in customs associated with a variety of religions. Our kids love to play dreidel for chocolate gelt during Hanukkah. They have lit the Menorah. They learn about the vast array of religious customs and observances around the world, and throughout history, and some interest them more than others.

A religiously literate child will not grow to be a xenophobic exceptionalist. She will very likely grow to be tolerant, charitable, kind, and will likely value peace and justice.  Much like this Jesus person that is celebrated this time of year.

More 'Ask a Humanist' entries...

• Vol. 1: What Happened To Make You Angry At God?
• Vol. 2: Aren't You Denying Your Children the Opportunity to be Religious?
• Vol. 3: What About Death?
• Vol. 4: Isn't Humanism a Faith?
• Vol. 5: Why Do You Care What People Believe?
• Vol. 6: Isn't It Sad To Live Without Faith?

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...

Ask a Humanist, Vol. 4: Isn't Humanism a Faith?

(Part 4 of an ongoing, meandering stream of undefined scope.)

There was a period of several years between the point when I accepted my lack of religious belief and the point in which I referred to myself as a Humanist/Secular Humanist. I honestly didn't know how to refer to myself, and I probably would not have settled on anything if it weren't for the fact that I kept running into situations where I was asked about my religious affiliation. Human beings love to classify things, including ourselves, and each other. 

Those several years where I wasn't sure how to classify my religious views were not unlike trying to self-diagnose a nagging chronic illness. (To extend the metaphor, as a formerly religious person, it did feel at times that something was wrong with me.) Most of us have plugged symptoms into a search engine in order to pinpoint a diagnosis. And most of us have been overwhelmed with the array of returned possibilities. There was atheism, agnosticism, pantheism, Humanism, and Universalist-Unitarianism. There was Ignosticism, Skeptcism, Secularism, Naturalism, and so on. And to complicate matters, many of the aforementioned philosophies have any number of definitions, or serve as an umbrella for any number of other, more specific philosophies.

At about the same the time that I was starting to figure out how to classify my beliefs, or lack of beliefs, Atheism was beginning to see a surge, specifically in bookstores, as tomes by Richard Dawkins, Sam Harris, Daniel Dennett, and Christopher Hitchens enjoyed considerable success (and ignited quite a few discussions in the media). Although these books were instrumental in making non-belief less of a taboo (and helping non-believers feel less of a minority), their perceived antagonistic tones, as well as the backlash from religious figures and institutions, only seemed to further associate "Atheism" with negative characteristics.

As someone who has many wonderful religious friends and family members, the last thing I wanted to do was to seem hostile towards religion (something with which I haven't had tremendous success.)  Although, I had lost my faith, I had not lost my faith in humanity.  In fact, during the period in which I came to terms with my non-belief, my appreciation of humanity, of nature, and of life, grew.  I felt that if I had to label myself, I wanted not to focus on what I didn't believe, but rather what I did believe. 

The American Humanist Association describes Humanism as follows:

1. Humanism is one of those philosophies for people who think for themselves. There is no area of thought that a Humanist is afraid to challenge and explore.
   
2. Humanism is a philosophy focused upon human means for comprehending reality. Humanists make no claims to possess or have access to supposed transcendent knowledge.
   
3. Humanism is a philosophy of reason and science in the pursuit of knowledge. Therefore, when it comes to the question of the most valid means for acquiring knowledge of the world, Humanists reject arbitrary faith, authority, revelation, and altered states of consciousness.
   
4. Humanism is a philosophy of imagination. Humanists recognize that intuitive feelings, hunches, speculation, flashes of inspiration, emotion, altered states of consciousness, and even religious experience, while not valid means to acquire knowledge, remain useful sources of ideas that can lead us to new ways of looking at the world. These ideas, after they have been assessed rationally for their usefulness, can then be put to work, often as alternative approaches for solving problems.
   
5. Humanism is a philosophy for the here and now. Humanists regard human values as making sense only in the context of human life rather than in the promise of a supposed life after death.
   
6. Humanism is a philosophy of compassion. Humanist ethics is solely concerned with meeting human needs and answering human problems -- for both the individual and society -- and devotes no attention to the satisfaction of the desires of supposed theological entities.
   
7. Humanism is a realistic philosophy. Humanists recognize the existence of moral dilemmas and the need for careful consideration of immediate and future consequences in moral decision making.
   
8. Humanism is in tune with the science of today. Humanists therefore recognize that we live in a natural universe of great size and age, that we evolved on this planet over a long period of time, that there is no compelling evidence for a separable "soul," and that human beings have certain built-in needs that effectively form the basis for any human-oriented value system.
   
9. Humanism is in tune with today's enlightened social thought. Humanists are committed to civil liberties, human rights, church-state separation, the extension of participatory democracy not only in government but in the workplace and education, an expansion of global consciousness and exchange of products and ideas internationally, and an open-ended approach to solving social problems, an approach that allows for the testing of new alternatives.
   
10. Humanism is in tune with new technological developments. Humanists are willing to take part in emerging scientific and technological discoveries in order to exercise their moral influence on these revolutions as they come about, especially in the interest of protecting the environment.
11. Humanism is, in sum, a philosophy for those in love with life. Humanists take responsibility for their own lives and relish the adventure of being part of new discoveries, seeking new knowledge, exploring new options. Instead of finding solace in prefabricated answers to the great questions of life, humanists enjoy the open-endedness of a quest and the freedom of discovery that this entails.

They say if the shoe fits, wear it.  The above set of descriptors were already aligned with the philosophies that I had come to slowly over my entire life.  Are there other descriptions for other philosophies with which I would also feel aligned? Yes, I'm sure of it. And I would probably not deny any relationship with that philosophy. (I feel perfectly fine referring to myself as an atheist, an agnostic, a Universalist-Unitarian, and other descriptors.)

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.

The Encyclopedia Britannica defines faith as:

Inner attitude, conviction, or trust relating man to a supreme God or ultimate salvation.

If a philosophy of belief system does not concern itself with a god or gods, it isn't a faith.  Humanism does not involve entertaining concepts related to the supernatural.  It is a naturalistic, nonreligious worldview.

Some might say that, regardless, Humanism certainly smells like faith/religion. I wouldn't deny that there are some similarities.  For example, just like religious folks, non-religious folks like to congregate at times with those who share their worldview.  The non-religious might form informal groups, or unite behind a particular cause that is important to their worldview.  They might lobby for (or oppose) particular legislation due to their worldview in the same way that many religious groups might. They might even seem to evangelize, whether by writing a letter to the editor, sporting a bumper sticker, or promoting the separation of church and state.  However, none of these instances are efforts to promote belief in a supernatural being. They are usually efforts to promote critical thinking, to honor the Constitution's Establishment Clause, to stress the need for improved science education, etc.  

The Oxford English Dictionary defines Religion as follows (definitions 1-4):

1. Action or conduct indicating a belief in, reverence for, and desire to please a divine ruling power; the exercise or practice of rites or observances implying this.
2. A particular system of faith and worship.
3. Recognition on the part of man of some higher unseen power as having control of his destiny, and as being entitled to obedience, reverence, and worship; the general mental and moral attitude resulting from this belief, with reference to its effect upon the individual or the community; personal or general acceptance of this feeling as a standard of spiritual and practical life.
4. Devotion to some principle; a strict fidelity or faithfulness; conscientiousness; pious affection or attachment.

Definitions 1-3 are definitions which speak to the supernatural, and therefore do not apply to any form of non-belief.  One could argue that some non-religious folks could be described as having "devotion to some principle," as in definition 4.  If that were the case, we would need to also classify any form of activism and many political movements as religious. But one could not accurately describe Humanism as a religion in the sense that we describe the Abrahamic faiths.

Although I describe myself as a Humanist, I do not attend a church.  I don't belong to any formal Humanist organizations.  I own no t-shirts or bumper stickers that pronounce my alignment with Humanism.  I have no Humanist text. I have no mantra, prayer, or meditation. There are no belief requirements I must meet in order to be part of the Humanist collective. It simply helps to describe who I am and what I do and don't believe. But it also helps to communicate (I hope) that by being godless, I am not without morals, and that I care tremendously about the world in which we live, and the people who inhabit it.  I do have faith in people.  I have seen the great good, and the unspeakable evils, of which they are capable.

Although I sometimes refrain from quoting Sam Harris, for fear of turning off people who already have a poor impression of him, but he has a great quote that demonstrates the type of faith that Humanists embody:

"I know of no society in human history that ever suffered because its people became too desirous of evidence in support of their core beliefs." 

I believe that societies are capable of making decisions based on evidence (and not based on ancient texts or religious doctrine), and that people are capable of acting with the intention of reducing suffering (without relying on scripture).

If that's faith, I'm guilty as charged.

Ask a Humanist

• Vol. 1: What Happened To Make You Angry At God?
• Vol. 2: Aren't You Denying Your Children the Opportunity to be Religious?
• Vol. 3: What About Death?
• Vol. 4: Isn't Humanism a Faith?
• Vol. 5: Why Do You Care What People Believe?
• Vol 6: Isn't It Sad To Live Without Faith?

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

• Vol. 1: What Happened To Make You Angry At God?
• Vol. 2: Aren't You Denying Your Children the Opportunity to be Religious?
• Vol. 3: What About Death?
• Vol. 4: Isn't Humanism a Faith?
• Vol. 5: Why Do You Care What People Believe?
• Vol 6: Isn't It Sad To Live Without Faith?