Roger Durham finds that in discussions about spirituality, asking questions is more important than finding answers.
We were on our first bottle of wine, a Silver Oak Cabernet, when Danny leaned over to me and said, in his crisp British accent, “So Roger, we’ve never had a proper conversation about you having been a minister. I fancy myself an atheist, but I’m curious, what kind of minister were you?” The restaurant was loud and crowded. My wife and I and five other couples had been at Churchill Downs all day betting on the horses and enjoying the refreshment of Kentucky Bourbon and a variety of imported and domestic beers. It was our annual gathering for the Kentucky Derby. Danny had been making the trip to Louisville for six years and had never expressed the slightest curiosity about my former profession. But, for some reason, this was the night Danny chose to ask his questions of me. Why, I wondered.
“I’m a Presbyterian, Danny, but tell me, why do you think you’re an atheist?”
“Seriously, Roger?”
“Seriously, Danny. Why do you say you don’t believe in God?”
“For starters, it’s hard for me to picture some kind, old man sitting on his throne, deciding who will join him in heaven and who will not, and standing by while horrible things happen to perfectly innocent people. I would rather believe there is no god, than to believe in a god like that,” Danny said.
“Well, Danny, by your description I must be an atheist too. I have no interest in a god like that.”
Danny looked at me as if he couldn’t decide whether I was joking, making fun of him, or blowing him off. The fact that I could agree with him was not something he had anticipated. And that opened the door to an interesting and honest dinner conversation. We ordered another bottle of wine and kept going.
After some playful banter about biblical stories, fairy tales and myths, I asked Danny, “Have you wondered why human beings are curious about these kinds of things? Do you ever think about how creation has reached such a point of self-reflection?”
“It’s evolution, Roger. Simple as that. Natural selection.”
“Selection toward what, Danny?”
“Toward survival.”
“Survival for what? Why survive? Where did that impulse come from? Why is that there?”
We teased that thought out for awhile, then, conversation drifted as dinner was served. I wondered why this was important to Danny, in this setting. We had been at the track all day. We were enjoying the festivities that surround the Kentucky Derby. Everybody has the kinds of questions Danny was asking. Most people find others they can trust enough to explore those questions with. But I couldn’t figure out why the questions were coming up now, in this sublime setting after such a fantastically fun day. Then, after dinner, Danny leaned over again and said, “You know, Roger, I was surprised at how moving it was for me to be in the church several weeks ago for my father’s funeral.” Ah, there’s the reason, I thought. “People thought it hypocritical of me, being so adamantly atheist, yet to be so moved by the ceremony. But I was moved – by the words and the music and the tradition.”
It was the first time Danny and I had spoken since his father’s death. I had written him a letter, offering condolences, but we had not talked. I was embarrassed not to have said something when we first saw each other, but now the conversation made sense to me. Death does have a way of bringing questions more sharply into focus.
♦◊♦
That night, I didn’t try to give Danny any answers. I answered his questions, where I could, but often my answers came in the form of questions. “What was it about the tradition that moved you, Danny? Did you feel the contradiction that other people felt in you? Do you think your atheism sets you apart from those around you? Is that important to you?” At the risk of sounding like a therapist, I was genuinely interested in what he was thinking.
And that may have been the most surprising part of the evening for Danny. I think he was expecting answers from me that he could easily dismiss, or answers that would give him something to hang onto. Instead, I gave him more questions, which, I am convinced, are what really matter. The questions we are willing to ask do as much to define us as the answers we are willing to accept.
That’s why I enjoyed that conversation so much that night. Danny challenged my worldview. He made me think. I’d like to think he made me a better man that night, because he tested my willingness to listen and to learn, as much by the questions I was asking, as by the answers he was offering.
Photo: DieselDemon on Flickr
About Roger L. Durham
Thanks for this Roger. Really enjoyed reading it.
Thanks, Todd. I’d be interested to hear what you liked about it.
Although an infrequent participant at church I have also recently found myself more moved by church ceremonies… What is it that moves us? A death, wedding, baptism; perhaps these ceremonies represent the passage of time and acutely remind us of our place in the passage of time or the endless cycle of life and death.
Allen – I couldn’t agree more. It seems like you and I have sat through a lot of funerals lately. And with every one, I find myself wondering what people will be saying of me. Pretty sobering. And time does keep moving.
Why do these “encounters with an atheist” sorts of post always involve only the shallowest and least thoughtful atheists? He seriously wasn’t prepared for a question as simple as “Why are you an atheist?”
The pretense that this is an article about questions and not answers is obviously bogus. The religious person is presented as thoughtful and sensitive, and the atheist is presented as completely oblivious. The fact that there is no response to the incredibly offensive (and hopefully false) insuation that he’s an atheist just to “feel special” proves that there’s no real desire to present atheism as an actual potential answer.
Since when is it the GMP’s role to promote the most vapid form of religious propoganda? (Also, what the heck does this have to do with “Ethics and Values”?)
Semiel – you underestimate Danny and misread me. It was a very provocative conversation. I would welcome the same conversation with you. Honest exploration of differences is an important way to move thought forward. No pretense intended. Sorry that is the way it came across to you. Where exactly did you see “vapid religious propoganda? And would it surprise you to know that some of my “Christian friends” were as offended by this as you seem to be. Tell me more about what drives your passion on this topic.
It may have been a provocative conversation, but you give absolutely no reason to believe that from your article. All the conversation centers around why the atheist could possibly be an atheist, without a smidgen of reciprocity.
I see it as vapid religious propaganda because it fits all the characteristics. The atheist is presented as doubting his own beliefs, having never really thought critically about religion, being unaware of the possibility of reasonable Christians, etc. The Christian is presented as compassionate, understanding, open-minded, and completely self-confident.
It wouldn’t surprise me at all to know that Christians have objections to this article. Either the same objections I have or different ones. Christians aren’t a hivemind, and there are plenty of extremely reasonable ones (something the straw atheist in the article seems unaware of).
I’m passionate because we live in a culture that systematically stereotypes atheists in exactly the way you’re doing, and it is harmful in the same way that the stereotypes about men that this website fights against are harmful. (Except worse, since atheists don’t have the same societal power that men do.)
I wouldn’t put it in as harsh terms, but I agree with Semiel. There is a mild, probably subconscious, feeling of condescension. However, I can’t blame Roger for that, so much. It’s hard for even the most open-minded person to avoid being condescending to someone that he truly disagrees with, when he’s not being outright hostile.
And I would be interested in hearing more of the substance of the conversation. Yes, Christians and atheists can get along — just ask me and my Catholic wife. It’s not so surprising to us atheists, because we wouldn’t make it through the day if this wasn’t true. We can all be open-minded and learn from opposing viewpoints. The Other Guy isn’t a monster. These are good things to be reminded of, but they stray into the realm of platitudes, at least among reasonable people. And I’m sure your not reaching the unreasonable portion of your audience, so you know what they say about preaching to the choir (pun intended).
Seconding, thanks for your thoughts. I don’t know that I can recall the details of the conversation, but I can tell you this – neither Danny nor I take the other to be monsters. Nor did we experience condescension from the other. At the end of the evening we agreed that we would enjoy more of that kind of conversation. I wasn’t trying to convince him to be Christian anymore than he was trying to convince me to be Atheist. He and I agreed on the curious role of religion on the contemporary shape of faith. He and I agreed that the image of God that has been projected by simple formulations is inadequate. He and I agreed that much of what has been taken as fact in Christian tradition, is better understood as mythology.
I find it interesting that my telling of the story has evoked feelings of condescension in at least two of my readers. I’d be interested to know what you found to be condescending, and platitudinous. I think in pretty simple terms. My writing style is pretty simple. There are a number of readers who seem to identify with that “voice”. I respect the fact that you don’t. If you found something that made you think, then I celebrate that. If you didn’t, then I appreciate you taking the time to comment anyway. I can’t help but believe that somewhere in all of this exchange, there is something important to be learned. For all of us.
Part of it is that you end the quoted conversation with your questions, leaving the sense that he couldn’t answer even if in the actual conversation he could.
Your line here, “I think he was expecting answers from me that he could easily dismiss, or answers that would give him something to hang onto.” Sounds a little condescending to me, in that you are assuming this is true, but is that from the actual conversation or what you expect an atheist to be like?
The thrust of the article seems to be that you talked to someone of a different opinion then you, and you were non judging and thoughtful. However the examples of the conversation you show us seem to favor you, things you said that he wasn’t expecting, but we don’t hear things he said that you may not have been expecting, or made you have to think about things.
All I can gather from this is you talked to an atheist, somehow it changed you. I don’t know what he really said about anything other then that he mentioned evolution, I don’t know how it changed you, and I know that he mentioned a religious ceremony moved him.
The conversation may have been mutually engaging, but I just have to take you on your word without any real examples. The article about a two way discussion feels unfinished because we only see what you put out, not what you took in.
Sam, thanks for the input. That is very helpful. The thrust of the article was intended to be: we are shaped as much, if not more, by the questions we are willing to ask, rather than the answers we give or get. Men have traditionally been socialized to have the answers, not questions. Part of my effort to be a “good man”, whatever that is, has taken me to focus on the questions of my life. The plot of the article was: two guys having a conversation that men stereotypically are not willing to have – a discussion about spiritual stuff. That’s what led me to my conversation with Danny. The fact that he was atheist, was a sub-theme, though my title would suggest otherwise. I grant that. The fact that you see only what I put out, not what I took in, was really the point I was trying to make. I wasn’t trying to solve a debate. I wasn’t trying to answer questions. I was asking questions, and content to leave it at that. I couldn’t tell you what answers I offered Danny, anymore than I could tell you what answers he offered me. What I came away from that conversation with was questions. And that’s what changed me. I came away with more questions. Perhaps the piece would have been strengthened had I ended with those. I’ll have to give that some thought. See there, you’ve left me with more questions…….
That’s helpful, Semeil. At the risk of sounding “compassionate, understanding, open-minded, and completely self-confident,” I appreciate your perspective. And I am sorry that you have experienced atheism to be systematically stereotyped. One of the things I value about The Good Men Project is it’s commitement to challenging stereotypes. So yours is an important contribution to this conversation.
Could it be, though, that I was writing not about an atheist versus a Christian, but about Danny and Roger having an engaging dinner conversation over a crowded dinner table – something that challenges one of the stereotypes of men — that we are reluctant to be so real and open? Could it be that I was raising the “Value” of openness and honest exchange? Could it be that this is as much a discussion about personal “Ethics” — an attempt by individuals to work out their own code of coduct and thought?
You have helped me to look more carefully at how I portray a perspective that I don’t really understand. I appreciate that. To be utterly honest, Semeil, I don’t understand what it means to be an atheist. I don’t know how anyone can think about or articulate “ethics and values” without some kind of organzing principle around which to structure that thought. I am intrigued by that possiblity, but I simply don’t know how it exists. I would like to understand that. I just don’t.
Thanks for engaging with me. You are teaching me.
To be fair, I do think that what I took away from the article is probably not what you intended me to find there. If you were indeed intending to write about openness and “realness”, then that’s a very valuable message, and I thank you for trying to promote that.
That said, I think you ought to seriously consider the way you framed the issue. The article title starts with the word “atheist”, and all of the dialog is grade-school-level apologetics (and bad understandings of evolutionary biology). If the comparison between atheist and theist wasn’t intended to be important, it should not be so central to the piece.
I am especially worried that you claim to have had this mindblowing conversation with an atheist, and still haven’t even gotten to the most basic level of understanding and empathy for what it is to be an atheist. If the article had been how your preconceptions about atheism were challenged, rather than being a rather formulaic article about a compassionate Christian rescuing a wayward sheep, it would have been much more interesting.
I don’t have any vitriol towards Christianity itself. In fact, I intend to write some day about how much I value my time in Christianity, and how valuable of a perspective I think it is. But I really dislike it when one side or the other is presented as naturally closeminded or impoverished, which I feel like your article (perhaps accidentally) did.
I’m more than willing to have the “non-theistic ethics” conversation with you, but I don’t feel like I even know where to begin. There are millenia worth of philosophy and literature on the topic, from Plato to stoicism to humanism to existentialism. The idea that ethics requires religion seems like the odd idea, to me. What do you want me to talk about?
Thanks for continuing to push Semiel. Had I intended this to be a critique of atheism, or an exploration of “non-theistic ethics” I would have approached it very differently. Had I been offering an academic argument against atheism I may have tried to take on some of that millenia of thought you mention, instead of Danny. Had this been Christian apologetic, I would have brought theologians to my side. This was a conversation between two guys. My friend’s questions about my former profession were the catalyst. Yes, I did use the word atheist in the title for effect. I wanted to invite people into the conversation. Did I mean to convince? Absolutely not. Did I mean to exhaust, or even point to, the thought structure of many of the philosophers I have studied? No. Did I mean to stereotype anyone? In no way. If I have done that, I apologize.
One other thing, I never said that ethics requires religion. Religion is, in my view, part of what clouds this whole discussion. My guess is that your reaction would have been different if I had not identified myself as a former Presbyterian minister. And there is much about religion that I find unconvincing. I simply said that, at the end of the day, an organizing principle is central to ethics. Even if that organizing principle is fate, or chaos, or random theory, or any ism you can think of. Ultimately, I am unconvinced by the argument that there is nothing around which this universe is structured.
I feel Roger’s story and responses to Semeil’s emotionally charged comments as reasonable, open-minded and thought-provoking. With no disrespect intended I feel Semeil’s response to be somewhat condescending, and defensive with a “chip on the shoulder feeling.” In my opinion Dr. Durham exemplifies the art of respectful nonjudgmental debate fostering an environment for learning and or spiritual growth no matter your beliefs. I also agree with the premise we can all learn from one another whether asking or answering questions. I am confused by Semeil’s question, “what do you want me to talk about?” That being said I am curious to learn and thirsty for spiritual growth therefore I would like for you to share or teach us more about “the most basic level of understanding and empathy for what it is to be an atheist.
Roger’s responses have indeed been open minded and thought provoking, and I am always thankful when someone is kind. I don’t want to get into my own personal thoughts on religion, but I know atheists have a bit of reason to be touchy.
My friend, as an atheist can’t mention his ‘religion’ without being challenged, or having people react to it. He says to him, it isn’t a choice, it’s just he was never raised in a religion and never saw the need for one. It isn’t what he used to define himself, and he says he never understood what the fuss was about.
His more distant family that ambushes him with debates and spams him with religiously laced cards, emails, and event invitations. It is a bit like finding out a relative is vegan, then constantly sending them coupons to a steak house, and only holding family events at back yard bbq’s.
I have never seen people react to different religions the same way they react to atheism. It is strange. I don’t mean to say all atheists are victims and all theists aggressors or anything like that, but there is a noticeable trend of tension. Probably the reason you used atheist in the title, because that tension exists and you used it to attract readers.
What is there to know about the “most basic level of understanding and empathy for what it is to be an atheist.”? Well, most basic level of understanding and empathy for what it is to be a Christian? A Hindu, an auto mechanic? That seems like a silly question, if nothing else that answer will change for each individual and their experiences, but there is a very simple one.
They are humans, with friends, loved ones, pasts, goals, dreams, passions, and challenges. What else do you really need?
Danny sounds like a very shallow atheist who really hasn’t thought out the reasons for his lack of belief. If you were really interested in “open” and “real” exchange, you would have pointed that out to him. Then perhaps he could have learned something about himself and grown from the exchange.
This apparently did not occur to you. From this I deduce that your theism is almost as superficial as Danny’s atheism.
Sally, thanks for taking the time to comment. I have been surprised at the interest this article has received, mostly from readers who identify with atheism. As I have said in comments above, I found the conversation with Danny far more interesting than that topic. Were I to write the article again, I would work to move the emphasis away from atheism/theism and toward a conversation between two guys in a public setting about a topic as private as ones beliefs. It’s a rare conversation among men.
There was a lot of the conversation I did not recount – in part because my memory of the specifics is limited. But I don’t think you are really in a position to judge how genuine the exchange was of how deep or superficial my belief structure is. I invite you to read the article again. In the closing paragraph I state the value of the conversation for both of us – not that we changed each others minds about anything, but that we were willing to listen and to engage in the conversation in the first place.
But if atheism is, for you, the lack of belief, then I would be very interested in a hearing more about that. Do you not believe in anything? Really? Is that even possible?
Let me just point out one specific problem that an atheist like me is likely to have with this article: asking “why do you think you’re an atheist?” and “Why do you say you don’t believe in God?” immediately suggests to us that you don’t take his lack of belief seriously. You’ve implied right off the bat that he isn’t REALLY an atheist, he just thinks he is. It reads to us as if no one who is your friend and a nice person can be a real atheist, he must not know that he’s really not an atheist.
You proceed to use a dialog structure to the article, that, while it may in fact be an accurate depiction of your memory of events, looks to us like many of the straw man portrayals of atheists we’ve seen, not even so far removed from a Chick Tract. We who are thoughtful atheists resent portrayals of atheists as having not really thought out these issues. You even conclude with death having made him think about these issues. You’ve portrayed the atheist as someone rather shallow whose ideas about reality are shaken by the death of a loved one. This is a common belief that religious people have about atheists, and for most of us, it’s not at all accurate. It may be an accurate description of your friend, or more likely, your friend wasn’t prepared to elucidate his thoughts fully in the dialog, but really had much better ideas than he was able to articulate.
But whether you meant to or not, you did a disservice to atheists with this article. As to why that upsets us, it might surprise you to learn that surveys have repeatedly and consistently found that people are less likely to vote for an atheist nominated by their political party for President than for a Muslim, Jew, African American, or Homosexual. Similarly they are less accepting of the idea of their family members marrying an atheist than any other minority group. I believe that this is because most people have a completely false idea of what an atheist is. That’s why we’re concerned with articles that perpetuate false images of atheists. In this case it’s the atheist who isn’t really an atheist, so he’s OK.
Thanks, Gus. The comments to my article have pushed me a lot. I know a several guys who identify themselves as atheists. I don’t look at them any differently than the guys I know who identify themselves as Buddhists, or Baptists, or whatever. What you have helped me to understand more fully, though, is the steroetype or stigma that is attached to atheism. And to the extent that my article contributes to that, I do apologize.
At some level, I do honestly wonder if atheism is a reaction to a bad theism – or more accurately – I am convinced that all of us believe in something – some organizing principle in life. Some have called that God, in some form or another. Others may call it fate, or chance, or chaos, or physics, or random selection or something. But help me understand how it is even possible to move through life without some sense of order? Whatever that order is – that is what I choose to call God. That doesn’t make me a theist, or at least I don’t think of myself as a theist. I just don’t find those labels all that interesting to me. Which begs the question, “Then why use Atheist in your title?” Which is a question for which my only answer is, “I thought it would invite some attention.” Which it did. And with that attention has come an invitation to me to be more sensitive to the disrespect that atheist feel in our culture. I appreciate the invitation – and your comments – and the questions you have raised for me. Questions, at least for me, are what make life most interesting.
I appreciate your apology and your thoughtfulness on atheist stereotyping. I hope you don’t feel you’re getting jumped on too much, knowingly or not you’ve waded into something that’s become a bit of a raging argument in various places on the internet.
I definitely waded into waters I did not see. I had no idea of the raging argument. I don’t carry a lot of passion for the topic, but I do find it interesting. I will have to wander around the internet and find some of these “conversations”. Thanks.
Let me try providing a few more thoughtful answers, so you can get an idea of how other atheists feel. I’m going to stop with these answers, anyone seeking a long argument over this can peruse the internet, that discussion goes on interminably in many place.
“I’m a Presbyterian, Danny, but tell me, why do you think you’re an atheist?”
“Seriously, Roger?” Yeah, that’s about how I’d answer that one.
“Seriously, Danny. Why do you say you don’t believe in God?”
I say I don’t believe in God because I’m fundamentally honest and I don’t believe in God.
“OK, Why don’t you believe in God?”
I don’t believe in God because there is no evidence whatsoever for the existence of a deity. To cut right to the chase, all anyone is going on is that other people believe and a bunch of books written hundreds of years ago say there’s a God. And the vast majority believe that every other religion is wrong while theirs really has no better evidence. Virtually everyone now alive agrees that the ancient Greek pantheon are not real, that they were invented by Greeks to explain things they couldn’t understand. Most of us extend this notion to a lot of belief systems, but for some reason most people are unable to extend it to whatever religious belief they were brought up in. I make that connection. I simply believe in one less God than you do.
“Have you wondered why human beings are curious about these kinds of things? Do you ever think about how creation has reached such a point of self-reflection?”
“It’s evolution, Roger. Simple as that. Natural selection.” Not a bad answer.
“Selection toward what, Danny?”
“Toward survival.” About right.
“Survival for what? Why survive? Where did that impulse come from? Why is that there?”
Where do you want me to start with this? The first single celled organisms? Current scientific evidence suggests that conditions were right in the early days of the earth for life to begin spontaneously, we can’t say for certain exactly how it happened, but given the conditions on earth, it was statistically likely. Given the vast size of the universe it was likely to have happened somewhere. And where else could we be living but in the one place lucky enough for life to begin? Once the first few organisms survived, whatever kept them alive was passed on. There’s no impulse, there’s no consciousness to evolution or survival, it is the inevitable outcome of life. Survive to reproduce effectively or cease to exist. There’s not really any more “why” than that.
“What was it about the tradition that moved you, Danny?”
I grew up going to church, it brings up a lot of old feelings, and frankly, church buildings and services are expressly designed to be moving. Plus, someone important to me had just died. I was kind of emotional.
“Did you feel the contradiction that other people felt in you?”
No.
“Do you think your atheism sets you apart from those around you? Is that important to you?”
It absolutely sets me apart, but I take no pleasure from that, in fact I wish sometimes I could be like everyone else, but I cannot be honest with myself and pretend to believe something I don’t.
Gus,
I appreciate you taking the time to do this, but you didn’t move the conversation any further than Danny and I did that night. Here’s one question I have for you. You say:
“There’s no impulse, there’s no consciousness to evolution or survival, it is the inevitable outcome of life. Survive to reproduce effectively or cease to exist. There’s not really any more “why” than that.”
I disagree completely with you about the lack of consciousness in evolution. It may have been true before human being arrived, but the very fact that we are having this conversation indicates a level of consciousness that is unexplainable to me based on a theory of mere survival. We want to understand, and I believe that faith traditions and religions have evolved for the sake of trying to answer questions that evolution does not answer. I don’t believe that any one faith tradition has it right. And maybe none of them have it right. But the fact that they exist and have for centuries is evidence, to me, that the created order has evolved to a point of consciousness that seeks answers.
And that, is why I asked Danny the questions I asked.
Thanks again, for engaging with me on this. You’ve given me a lot to think about.
I see two basic and related questions here:
Is it really possible to not believe in some organizing principle or order?
And:
How did evolution, guided merely by the principle of natural selection, result in a single species capable of asking these questions and that seems to feel the need to believe in some sort of God?
In answer to your first question, I would say that most atheists probably do believe in some sort of organizing principle or order. The main differences are that we do not see any sort of external consciousness in that order and that we don’t base our belief in any kind of blind faith, authority, or ancient writ. Certainly the laws of physics, as well as the principle of evolution by means of natural selection, provide some sense of order. But I don’t think that mean that order is ordained by any sort of conscious higher power. It is one thing to say that we know that there is an order to the way the universe operates, that I can calculate the motion of objects based on a set of known physical laws, right up to the ability to plant satellites in stable orbits or land men on the moon and return them home based on an understanding of gravity and mechanics, and quite another to say that there must be something operating somehow outside of those laws or that gives us those laws as some sort of conscious being.
As to part two, it’s incredibly difficult, indeed, to determine exactly how various human traits, particularly those originating in the brain, came to be through evolution. There are countless articles written that are pure speculation about how evolution guided the development of any number of behaviors of individuals and societies. But while we can’t define exactly how these things came about, we can posit any number of potential ways that they could have evolved, and that’s certainly good enough to accept them as evolved as opposed to the notion of them as divinely ordained. To grossly simplify, at some point various species have evolved large enough brains to make and use tools. Once thought to be unique to humans, fairly complex tool making and use has been observed in chimpanzees, elephants, and even crows and ravens. These abilities could (and must have) easily provide a survival advantage, particularly in times of rapid environmental change. Eventually, our species became better at tool creation and use than any other. The same characteristics that led to tool creation could easily have produced all sorts of creative and abstract thought. A tool is an invention, it is seeing something in an entirely new way, figuring out that hitting a brittle rock with a hard rock can result in a sharp edge that cuts. The better we got at this kind of thinking, the more we began to have excess abstract thinking ability. We began to ask bigger questions with that ability. Sometimes when I hit the two rocks together there’s a spark. Is that spark related to fire? Wow, I can make FIRE?! But fire comes from lightning. Where does lightning come from? Someone must be creating sparks, someone really big – poof, religion. But religion has also been a tool for control of societies, and this too could have been an evolutionary advantage. These smarter animals began to survive better by living and working together in larger and more complex societies. Religion strengthened the bonds of those societies, potentially creating a survival advantage. Not everyone agrees that religious belief provided an evolutionary advantage, some would argue that it was just a free rider on general creative though. An anomaly. Some think we’re predisposed by evolutionary biology to believe, but others disagree. In any event, just because it provided an advantage at some point in our past does not mean we need it anymore. Certainly people find it useful, and that’s fine.
But as you are interested in questions, all this makes me think of some questions for you:
What is the nature of religious belief?
Does religion require a gathering of people together and belief in the words of a holy book, or is it an individual exercise?
Is a god a conscious being of some kind that directly influences the world around us on an ongoing basis, or is a god just a word for the laws of physics, or nature. Or the totality of energy in the universe that has a drive to some order and end but not a consciousness in the way we understand it?
If religious belief is an individual exercise involving a nebulous association of the laws of physics or some natural order, is it any more meaningful to call that “God” than it is to suggest that there is no god or consciousness behind those laws?
OK Gus, here are my thoughts:
When you say: “we don’t base our belief in any kind of blind faith, authority, or ancient writ”, then, by your definition, or this part of your definition, I must be an atheist. I am not driven by blind faith (that term in itself feels layered with judgment, frankly). I don’t bow to some “authority”, even though I try to align my life to LOVE, and I don’t live by some “ancient writ”, even though I do find value in the lessons that can be drawn from many writings – religious, spiritual or mythological.
When you say: “But religion has also been a tool for control of societies, and this too could have been an evolutionary advantage” I couldn’t agree with you more. There is a lot about religion that is controling and manipulative. In fact, the older I become the less tolerant I become of religion. But religion and spirituality are very different to me. And some of my atheist friends are very spiritual. I don’t know how to explain the existence of spritual inquisitiveness, apart from something more than survival. Help me with that.
Now to your questions:
1) What is the nature of religious belief? I’m not sure I can answer that. Religions of the world teach certain beliefs, but I am more interested in spiritual curiosity than I am religious belief. My experience has been that religious belief tends toward exclusion, but what I experience as “God” is more inclined to “inclusion”. My experience of religious belief has been that it lends itself toward judgment, but my experience of “God” is more oriented toward love.
2) Does religion require a gathering of people together and belief in the words of a holy book, or is it an individual exercise? Yes, I think it does. Religion does not exist apart from people. The church understands itself as the “people of God”. Religion is designed to collect, nurture, inspire and lead people. But, for me, that has nothing to do with the existence, or lack of existence, of God.
3) Is a god a conscious being of some kind that directly influences the world around us on an ongoing basis, or is a god just a word for the laws of physics, or nature. Or the totality of energy in the universe that has a drive to some order and end but not a consciousness in the way we understand it? This is exactly the point I have been trying to make. The anser to all of this is “Yes”. Depending on your vantage point. Like in a simple example of quantum physics – is light a particle or a wave? The answer is “yes” – it is both, but you experience it as one or the other depending on what you are looking for.
4) If religious belief is an individual exercise involving a nebulous association of the laws of physics or some natural order, is it any more meaningful to call that “God” than it is to suggest that there is no god or consciousness behind those laws? EXACTLY – no less, and no more. At the end of the day, we claim the reality that we want to see. I choose to claim a reality that insists that there is an organizing principle, that the principal expresses itself primarily as LOVE, and that’s what makes “making love” as a human, different from procreating as a chimp. At least for me.
Thanks for your honest and thoughtful replies. I don’t fully agree with you, obviously, but I understand where you’re coming from, and I think you’ve gotten some exposure to the way some atheists think. Certainly I’ve done all I can here. I think it was a productive discussion. I would pick one more nit – you say you must be an atheist by my definition, but don’t worry, the definition is a bit more complicated, and it does ultimately rely on believing that, given the evidence, the existence of anything that can rightfully be called a god is at least highly unlikely. On the other hand, you could certainly call yourself an atheist and not really be wrong, we’re always looking for more club members! If you’re in the mood to read up on atheist thought, I’d recommend starting with Bertrand Russell rather than the current crop of atheist writers and bloggers. There are great thinkers and arguments among the modern writers, but the discussion has changed, we’re a bit defensive these days and perhaps impatient since we tend to see many of the arguments as conclusively finished before we were born.
Thanks. I remember BR from my college days, but I will read him again as I’m sure my thought has evolved. I appreciate your willingness to stick with this conversation. We can agree to disagree on some points and leave it at that. As I said before, the questions I come away with are as intriguing, and as important, to me as any answers I may have discovered in our conversation.
Wow, these are great questions that deserve more attention than I can give while sitting at my desk making sales calls. I will get back to the conversation this evening. I wil leave you with some questions for now: What is the value of metaphor for you? And how does music and art distinguish humanity from the rest of creation? And how, or where, did love evolve into the survival equation? More later.