Could have fooled me

Elsewhere I watched an interesting dynamic take place.

A Christian used a variety of names in describing an atheist.
A person questioned “why the name-calling?”
Other Christians indicated that since the Bible calls atheists “Fools,” they were entitled to do so.

First, I question whether Psalms 14, or its parallel, Psalms 53 (used to justify the claim of the right to call atheists “Fools”) were being used correctly. Paul, when referring to these Psalms in Rom. 3:9-18, seems to indicate that the Psalmist is referring to ALL humans not searching for God, and ALL humans commit bad acts. Basically, that anyone who is evil is a “Fool.”

This is supported by the numerous times in the New Testament that “foolishness” is equated to “sinfulness.” See Mt. 7:26, Mark 7:22, Luke 11:40, Rom: 1:20-23, Gal. 3:1, Eph 5:4, Eph. 5:15, and Titus 3:3.

There are, however, other instances where foolishness is NOT necessarily equated to sinfulness. 1 Cor. 1:18-25, 1 Cor. 3:19, and Titus 3:9. Paul calls himself foolish (and I seriously doubt Christians would associate atheism with Paul!) 1 Cor. 1:18-25, 1 Cor. 3:19, and Titus 3:9

The way I figure it, according to the Bible, we are all fools at one point.

But that is not what fascinated me. What did was the claim to a right to call atheists fools, and a God-given mandate to use that right!

Just because you have a right, does not mean you have to exercise it. I recognize that within the Christian worldview, my wisdom would be considered “foolish.” That my claiming there is no God is “foolish.” That my saying there is no God is “foolish.” Does it help a Christian’s position—exercising that right?

To me it makes little difference. I exist in a world where I am called much harsher names by clients, judges, and especially by other attorneys. Being just a “fool” is almost a relief.

Further, I obtain a perverse irony out of the fact that most Christians using the tern “fool” toward me, yet know less about the establishment of Christianity, and next to nothing about the process of deconverting to atheism.

I once had a “red-light” case. A car collision in which both drivers claim the other ran a red light. My client was severely injured, and did not recall the color of the light. The defendant insisted my client ran a red light. An independent witness thought they remembered my client had a yellow (caution) light.

The attorney for the other side was a flaming jerk. Throughout the case he derided me, as to my inability to practice law, my outstanding ignorance, and my ineptitude of everything, up to and including ability to dress myself.

The day before trial, I contacted the independent witness, to confirm his testimony. He said, “You know, I have been thinking real hard about that day. The more I think about it, the more confirmed I am that your client ran the red light. I am sorry, but that is how I will testify.” My case was sunk!

Right before trial, we were able to settle it. The other attorney continued to mock me, telling me it was good I was afraid to go to trial, because he would have kicked my butt. If he only knew how close to the truth he was! Of course, I could not say anything, because had he known, he would never have agreed to pay as much as he did.

As his client was writing a check for a substantial sum, I had the same sense of perverse irony as I do when someone who has never even heard of the Synoptic problem is calling me a “fool.”

There are times I don’t mind Christianity. It provides a person with hope for an afterlife, and a paradigm by which a person can live a moral life. Hey, “Love your neighbor” no matter WHO frames it, is a good thing. Christianity can provide much needed socialization for some, an avenue to receive help for others and a means in which charitable giving can be easily provided.

And then there are times like this. Where the person claims that God Himself, in a very special and limited-edition written form gave the person not only the permission, but the actual obligation to call another person a fool.

It is such a small, stupid thing, yet I get this sense it is the tip of a very scary iceberg. There is this permeation of self-satisfaction as to the ability to call another person “Fool” with not only no twinge of reflection, but that God is smiling down and nodding His head in approval.

What else does the Christian believe God is actively smiling at?

Christian: God, that guy is an atheist, He’s a fool, right? Right?
God: Right you are. Tell ‘im again. Makes me laugh.

Christian: God, that guy is a Pharisee. Can I call him names and treat him with disgust?
God: Oh, you go right ahead. Gives me a chuckle every time.

Christian: That guy is a fag. God, Can I stone him?
God: Weeeellll.. That sort of thing (to my chagrin) is no longer permitted. *sigh* Tell you what, though. If you make his life miserable, that’s just as good.

Christian: God, that guy is not a ‘True’ Christian.
God: You just do what you think is right. You know God’s got your back.

One of the freeing things about being an atheist is that we are not obligated by what some human told us God says we have to do. We can make the determination, not on beliefs, but on actions, words and statements as to whether a person is a fool or not. Whether name-calling is appropriate or not.

If it makes you feel better (or if you think it gets you in good with your God) to call me a “Fool” knock yourself out. I am not bound by such mandates. If I call you a “fool” you can be happy in the fact that you earned it all on your own. No mandate about it.

All I ask is that you really, REALLY think about what makes your God happy or not. If it stopped at “fool” we could all have a laugh. But I fear it is only the beginning. The beginning of a long laundry list of things the Christian is aching to do and say to non-believers with the firm conviction that God is smiling and cheering them on.

Ask the Atheist

Sometimes I play this game I like to call “Ask the Atheist.” It always starts the same.

A former church member, or friend of a friend, or acquaintance writes me about how they had heard I was an atheist, and they always wanted to question an atheist. I don’t mind. About three years ago, I would have been doing the same. Surprised, questioning, curious, and a bit fascinated to actually talk to a real, live, honest-to-goodness atheist.

Like finding that proverbial pot of gold at the end of the rainbow. We always heard of such things, just never have seen any. Invariably, one of the first questions is, “Do you mind talking about God?” It’s not very nice, but I admit I always chuckle when I read this. I blog in two places about God. I read resources every day on the issue of theism. I have debated on four or five specific forums about God. I read the Bible every single day. Mind? Not at all.

And then a few questions. The usual suspects:

“How can you believe the earth came about by pure chance?”
“What keeps you from doing whatever you want?”
“How do you get around prophecy fulfillment?”
“Since there are no proofs against God, aren’t you an agnostic?”
“Science has been wrong before, how can you rely upon the scientific method?”
“What would it take for you to believe in God again?”

Again, I don’t mind. While I have addressed these issues before, (and really should keep a file with stock answers, but don’t) I enjoy replying to each particular individual’s question or need. Being me, I tend to write long responses. They write a few paragraphs, it seems I write 6 pages! There is just so much to talk about in this realm; it is hard for me to feel I have adequately covered the ground with just a few sentences.

I have started to change my tactic, and write a bit shorter, but it always feels insufficient and a bit lackluster.

I get maybe one follow-up letter, my personal record is a total of three letters, and then it stops. Another round of “Ask the Atheist” is over.

I wonder what I did wrong. Did I provide the wrong answers? One specific participant seemed quite insistent that I had unresolved sin that was simply dying to burst out of me, and the only remnant of a restraint was this pesky belief in a God, so I discarded it to act out my wildest excursions.

The problem being, I couldn’t, for the life of me, figure out what this particular sin was, nor why a belief in God would restrain me.

Perhaps the person thinks I just never heard of their brand of theism, or haven’t studied the Bible, or was uniformed. And, upon receiving my answers, becomes satisfied that I have made an informed decision. (They never say that, though.)

Or maybe they hope to re-convert me. That no one else has ever introduced me to the brilliant argument of “Lord, Liar or Lunatic” and upon reading it, will abandon my atheistic ways.

Or do they think that I am angry at God? That my long responses are simply excuses for pent-up rage against something that God must have done that nobody (including myself) knows about?

Whatever the reason, the game always ends the same—an abrupt stop to my letters. No reason why. No follow-up. Nothing.

And I always wonder why. The closest I came to figuring out why, is one person told my wife they think I “protest too much” and the fact that I was still going to church meant I was still looking for God. But even he never got back to me. If I was still looking for a God, it apparently wasn’t his job to show me.

Is it that I write too much? Should I write less? But then it wouldn’t be me responding. Should I be more careful about the errors of Christianity? I do try and temper it with a bit of humor, or a light story, or an example. It may be that Christianity is seen so deadly serious, that my approach is taken as disrespect or mocking.

It is hard. There is no god. The Bible is not divine. And while I am ever mindful that my correspondent believes in these things, there are times it is difficult to converse with that same level of belief in the forefront of my mind.

Do I present issues and responses that are scary to them? That they would prefer to not even read it, even to the point of leaving their curiosity about atheism unsatisfied?

What ever the reason, I find myself once again, at the end of another round of “Ask the Atheist.” And I find myself, once again, wondering why.

A funny thing happened on the way to Dinner

Last Saturday, after a long day of yard work and various activities, we decided to go out to eat as a family. As we enter the restaurant we see a table of clowns.

Obviously they had been at some event, and were on their way home, relaxing for a bite to eat. Having small children, I immediately began to breathe threats of harm if they bothered these clowns. To some extent, sitting there with their wigs on, and even with their bulbous noses still attached, I could see how they shouldn’t be surprised if kids came up to them.

But, they are entitled to relaxation just like everyone else, and my kids do not need to be bothering them. Of course, fate hating me, we are seated a table right next to them.

My children were great, and other than a few smiles and waves, left the situation alone. I relaxed.

After their meal, a clown came over to the table. I have kids. Not a surprise.

“Do you want some stickers?”

Nice gesture. Clowns. Kids. O.K. She hands my children stickers that say, “God even made Frogs” with a Frog picture. Still nice and O.K.

“We just came from Knoxville Baptist Church.”*

You know that switch inside of you that tells you it is better to be quiet? No matter how much you want to say something, it clicks in and says, “Hey, maybe now is not the time.” That thermostat? I was born without one.

I have a lady in orange hair, bright red make-up, bulb nose, baggy shirt and pants, with two foot shoes saying she just came from Church. I promised to be polite to Christians, but Come ON. This was too good to be true!

I do the only thing imaginable to maintain sanity. Inflict pain on myself to keep from blurting out. I stab myself in my leg with my fork. My response must have sounded something like: “Uh…oh…OW!”

“We are not just clowns. We are Christian Clowns.”
“Oh—OW. I, er, OW…uh” and at this point I collapse into a coughing fit to cover whatever my mouth would love to blurt out.

“Do Mom & Dad want a sticker, too?”

We solemnly take our stickers, my wife daring me to say anything, me trying to find more painful areas to stab.

And the Clown just stood there. Waiting. Apparently we are supposed to respond in a more intelligent manner.

As I looked about the restaurant, I see they have all divided up, and are talking to four different tables. Now, I understood why they came to my table—I have children. Most natural. But I saw one handing stickers to a couple in their mid-60’s and attempt to strike up a conversation.

The couple obviously wanted a quiet relaxing evening, and were none too interested in being bothered by Christian Clowns. After a moment of awkward silence (which was being repeated at our table) the clowns went away.

Here I was doing everything in my power to keep them from being bothered by my kids, and they apparently did not quite have the same courtesy for others!

Lucky for me, at the table behind me, I heard a patron say (loud enough so the clowns, the patrons, and the kitchen staff could hear) “Oh, yes! I am a TRUE follower of our Lord Jesus Christ.” The clowns swooped in to mingle with friends.

I didn’t mind the clown approaching my table. I didn’t mind the sticker that was pro-God. I was slightly bothered by the attempt to evangelize a restaurant.

What I really thought interesting was my lack of surprise. What would Christians do, if I started going around from table to table at a restaurant with “God is Dead” stickers, handing them out? They would be aghast! Or if I handed out business cards, drumming up new clientele? They would find it rude.

Yet when Christians do these very things, it is tolerated. Even accepted in some resigned fashion. If I did it, I would be labeled a “Militant Atheist.” A Christian? Simply being a good citizen of heaven.

Yes, I know it is mandated. Yes, I know that they are trying to save people from what they think will be an eternity of torture. Seriously—the best evangelism technique would be to actually demonstrate some love for others. Let them eat their meals in peace.

So Suffer!

I have been discussing suffering elsewhere, for about the billionth time. It is the issue that never seems to quite be resolved in debates on theism.

We all see suffering about us. Some of it seems quite unexplainable. The person that has overeaten all their life, or abused their body with some type of drug and has ramifications when they are older can be written off by the theist as “results of sin.”

But the child starving to death, or being beaten for no reason is harder to explain. Diseases such as polio and small pox, which have been virtually wiped out through efforts of humans leave questions as to why a God would allow them in the first place, if He wanted humans to eliminate them.

And as I was having this discussion….again…it struck me. Many theists are resigned to suffering. If their God cannot eliminate it, with all of His power, and if their God does not want it eliminated, with all of his knowledge—who are they to do more than God?

In this respect, I have it easier than the theist. I will, desire and intend to eliminate suffering in all aspects possible, to the point of eliminating its cause, symptoms, results and effects. I understand that the development of nature IS cruel. This world was not “designed” for us to live in, we are adapting to its environment as best we can. Evolution has no “mind” to reduce suffering or pain, which is why we have knees that are more suited for quadruped, rather than bipedal, and suffer more knee injuries. Evolution doesn’t care.

In some ways I have it easier—I do not have to justify why the world is the way it is. I do not have to justify suffering. It simply is. All I have as my goal is to reduce the bad effects as much as humanly possible.

Can a theist do that? In the defenses to the Problem of suffering, I am assured that for some inexplicable reason, God has necessitated that people suffer. Either it is to protect free will, or create balance, so we appreciate not suffering, or it was a result of sin, and not even the intent of God in the first place.

God cannot step in, because it is a punishment He prescribed, or it would impinge free will, or he needs it for us to love him more when he sends joy. So….is the theist bound to reduce suffering? What if, in some way, that would reduce God’s punishment? Who is the theist to put themselves in the position of God? God can no longer send an epidemic of smallpox—was it a sin to wipe out that disease? Is that why God must continually introduce new diseases, such as the West Nile virus, or the Bird Flu, because pesky humans keep interfering with the perfectly good diseases he already had in place in order to buttress whatever he needs suffering for?

Or if suffering is necessary to appreciate joy, is the theist ruining the system? All those people that never get to experience joy, because they didn’t suffer. Or if it is necessary for Free Will, who is the theist to restrict free will by reducing the causes of suffering. Not even God, apparently, can do that.

In other ways I have it harder. See, I have to actually work at reducing other’s distress. The theist, understandably, believes they are in commune with an ultimate power. Something that can eliminate poverty, disease, even death. Theists further believe that this God actually cares enough to get involved, so if the theist prays, they do not have further responsibility; it is now in God’s hands.

I see that it requires humans caring for humans, theists believe that it is something more—a creature of unlimited power that will resolve the problem. I do not take the time to stop and pray, I must move immediately.

And as I have these conversations, where theists are defending for the umpteenth time why we must have misery, pain, and torment in this life, I wonder if they really are bent on reducing it?

I would imagine that people suffering from terminal illness and pain are not at all thrilled to hear how they are necessarily suffering for some reason because there is a God that is ready, willing and able to eliminate the affliction—just not for them.

So as we debate suffering, a small part of the back of my mind can’t help wondering. And now it is wondering out loud. If the theist believes that suffering is necessary, and that not even God can eliminate it—is their heart really into reducing suffering as well? Or are they going through the motions.

Sure, sure, I know their God ordered the theists to have compassion. But is that just a test? See how well they do, to get the biggest mansion? Are those that suffer simply guinea pigs to give the theists test subjects? How cruel is That!

Either God can eliminate suffering, and this is all just one big charade to play out some drama, or God cannot, in which case the theist could have little motivation they can do more than their own God.

To pray, or not to pray

A stupid micro-example of what it is like being an atheist in a theist’s world.

My immediate family consists exclusively of conservative Christians. When I visit their homes, prior to the meal, they all hold hands, bow their heads, close their eyes, and provide the obligatory prayer.

A waste of time. The private evil-me would LOVE to take out a bit of raw beef, light a candle, and with a fork burn a sacrifice to Zeus, giving an obligatory thank you, with the request to hold back his lightening bolts, and then leave the blackened, smoking steak in the middle of the table to provide Zeus with a pleasing aroma, and a meal should he perchance join us.

Because “grace” has as much influence on reality as my candle/fork/heifer routine. None.

Of course, the rational, human side of me understands that my family is very well-aware of my position, there is no need to “make a point” or to say or do anything would only cause harm, offense and division. It is their home. I have an obligation, as a guest, to be polite. As it is, I get enough sideways glances that I all but hold my breath to keep from rocking the boat any further. (I am known for being slightly out-spoken, so such a display would not necessarily be out of character.)

So I hold hands, bow my head, close my eyes, and tune out. (At one time I listened, but that started an internal process of debating the prayer, and there is nothing but bad coming from that!)

But what happens in my home? I am married to a conservative Christian, as well, which only complicates things. Would my family grant the same courtesy, if we decided to not pray?

It has become a bit of a ritual. We invite family over. A bit of socializing and then the meal is ready to be served. There is a moment of awkwardness; the pause before the storm. Do I say, “Dig in?” Do I pray? I can see my family holding their breath, wondering how an atheist starts a meal.

And I punt. I ask one of my kids to pray.

O.K.—call me a gutless wimp. I was raised in a home where one defers to one’s guests. If they are hot, turn down the furnace and put on a sweater. If my dog frightens them, she can be restricted away. The people I invite are more important than the “things” I have. If their children are not allowed to watch movies my children can, I defer to them. If they need a prayer, give ‘em one.

And they breathe a collective sigh of relief. The moment passes.

This happened again. Recently. And yes, I told you it was stupid. Yet I reflect on why it has to happen at all. Why does religion have to be so divisive that literally a minor, unnecessary ritual becomes a moment of awkward uneasiness?

I could serve chicken, fish or steak, and no one would feel odd, or awkward with these choices. We go into houses where people ask us to take off our shoes, or not touch the vase, or not use the guest bathroom and think nothing of it. But introduce religion…..one little prayer…..and all of a sudden it drives us apart.

What, really, does it matter if someone prays before a meal or not? I know they don’t pray before every snack grabbed out of the cupboard. I never prayed between potato chips.

This is just a minor example. There are so many, other minor examples. They can start a joke with “A Priest, a Rabbi and a Minister walk into a bar…” But if I did, there would be tension, not humor. We avoid discussing certain movies, certain books, certain places, and certain people, all out of fear of where the conversation would head.

We can discuss what color car we like, where we like to shop or eat, or what our kids are doing. And in the back of every mind is, “Do I tell them about---Whoops! Better not go there. Or that—Ah, No. That is best left unsaid.”

While I enjoy discussing the various flavors and nuances of religion with a variety of people, on occasion it hits home just how harmful it can be. It can be fun to debate who wrote the Gospel of Matthew and when. It gets less amusing when I see my own family cringe over a silly ritual instilled by years of repetition, and dividing us, even for a moment. Religion can be insidiously invasive into separating people because of the engulfing judgment it seems to require.

Check your Oil?

I get my oil changed at those quick-change 10 minute places. The mechanic and I always play the same game—How much Money can I get this Guy to Spend?

My cars have reached the age where, apparently, they need regular maintenance that I am not adequately providing. Our routine is familiar:

“That cheap $15 oil change, please.”

Furious tinkering under the hood of my car.
“Sir, your air filter is dirty. For $15, that should be replaced.”
“Uh……Okay.” (doubling my price)

More furious tinkering.
“Sir, your transmission should be flushed, for $79 we can get that squared away.”
Calculating how much my $15 oil change is costing me, “No, Thanks.”

Never one to be daunted by a “No,” he attempts another attack.
“You know, every 30,000 miles we recommend a complete oil cleaning system that would clear out any of the deposits left. It is only $39.”
Now I am in that half-way spot of pleased I did not spend $79, and fearful that if I don’t commit, my engine is sure to quit in the middle of an emergency trip to the hospital.
“Er….go ahead. I guess.”

Recently they have cleverly increased the tactics by introducing a computer. They take me out of my car, walk me over to the computer, and point out how IT is demonstrating with lovely colored charts and graphs all of the maintenance I am neglecting with my poor car. It is as if my mechanic is saying, “I am just a simple human that could make a mistake, but here — HERE is a computer making billions of calculations per second, and within those tiny seconds has determined that your automobile will DIE unless immediate treatment is administered, and how can you argue with a computer?”

The simple answer is that you can’t—I cough out more money.

One day, just for fun, I think I will agree to everything and see how far they are willing to go.

“Sir, you need a radiator flush.”
“Sure, go right ahead.”
“We also recommend a brake pad re-adjustment, and light replacement.”
“Knock yourself out.”
“Transmission flu---“
“Yep, one of those too!”

I figure the conversation would develop to the point of:

“Sir, we further recommend the Executive package, in which we remove your entire engine, power-wash it with acid, dry it with an airplane engine, and then completely replace every single part that could possibly be replaced.”
“Why not? Go ahead.”
“Oh. HEY, JIM! We got an ‘Executive’ on bay Two.” *wink, wink*

Jim would pipe up, “Good thing, too! From here I can see the right side of the car is not lined up with the left side. Better throw in a full car body alignment, or else that Executive won’t last two weeks.”
“Sir, do you have time for this?”
Having prepared in advance, I brought my sleeping back, a month’s worth of reading, and provisions to feed a camp, “Sure, go ahead.”
“Then step this way to our finance department, and we can get you all fixed up.”

Instead I dance between what to pay, what should be done, always with the hope that somehow I am money ahead by not spending too much, and getting away with a few extra miles before spending the real money. I dread that final day when he opens the hood and sighs:

“Oh, dear. Harrumph. Hmmm….”
”Anything wrong?”
“Be with you in a minute, sir. Just checking ‘er out.”

I see him pull out a few sticks, continue to furrow his forehead, and start consulting manuals.
“Is there---“
“With you in a minute, sir. HEY JIM! Can you look at this?”

The shocked looked on Jim’s face is not comforting. Nor is his statement, “Wow! Never seen that before!”

Gary walks by. (I assume it is Gary, since his shirt proudly proclaims, “Gary” but no one has ever yelled out at him, and he never says a word.) Gary takes one look, pulls out a kazoo and softly plays taps. “Ta. Ta. Taaaaaa.”

They close the hood, and my mechanic approaches me, rubbing his hands on a towel.

“Try to look at it this way, sir. Don’t think of it as a loss of an automobile, but focus on the good times you had together. The drives, the laughs, the open road.”
“Is it…..?”
”Yep. Time to take that final journey to the Great Crusher in the Sky.”

Many of us drive our cars around, never thinking about what needs to be maintained on them, hoping that everything under that engine is running smoothly, and occasionally taking them in for the mandatory check-up, performing the minimum amount of repair work for the maximum benefit until the next mandatory check.

I wonder if many theists do the same with their spiritual life. I see believers and non-believers working hard for promotions, trying to find the perfect mate, attempting to raise children, getting groceries, taking children to hockey, basketball, cheerleading, band and soccer. Both get up in the morning to alarm clocks, drive to work, take lunch breaks, catch a baseball game with friends, and come home to clean their house.

We all encourage our kids to do well, spend time with our families, work in the yard, and help the neighborhood paper drive.

We all look exactly alike in our ambitions, activities, and living day-to-day. We are so used to quick check-ups. Fast oil changes. Drive-though food. Those that do cook, use a microwave to get it in 3-5 minutes. If we need a safety pin, a shovel or a steam engine, we can “run right out and get it.”

What I see is the exact same human reaction to theism. Every Sunday believers attend a church for their “check-up.” Saturday they got an oil change and a transmission flush in 30 minutes. Sunday they get an attitude change and bitterness flush in the same time. And, just like that oil change only lasting for a short time, so, too the spiritual-change.

By Sunday afternoon, they have returned to looking just like me. Same problems, same resolutions, same humanity. Amazingly, we have come to expect it! Just like needing a tune-up, it is assumed that “tapping into God” only lasts so long, and eventually wears down. Need to give it a kick with a daily devotion, or a prayer, or a meeting together. Constant maintenance must be administered, or the God-power runs down like an old battery.

And it is always the human doing the jolting. The human going to church, the human reading the Bible or praying, and if the human stops—God stops. The only time God re-starts is if the human restarts. All of the impetus is on the human.

No matter how much I stay on top of keeping my car maintained, there is always something more. Being a human creation, it won’t last forever, and the only way to make it last as long as it can is by constant attention. It is the same with theism! I could pull story after story after story of people striving to “know” God, working to keep their relationship with God, working to stay out of sin, working to be more like God, and every single time it is the human performing the effort. And it always, always, ALWAYS requires a little bit more. More time. More reading. More work on the part of the human.

God is doing none of the work. Just like my car is not trying to maintain itself, and is, in fact, doing the exact opposite, God is sitting on the sidelines, forcing humans to come to him, and if they do it wrongly, or not enough, or stop, God stops. Just like my car.

“What a friend we have in Jesus.” Heard the song? Imagine if I was a friend like Jesus. I would tell you that you must do all the talking to me. I sent you a letter once, but that is all you get. You must continually work to have a relationship with me. If you stop, I won’t have a relationship with you. If you do it wrongly, I won’t be your friend. But I won’t tell you how to do it right.

If anything good happens in your life, it is because of me. If anything bad—it is your fault. You can ask me for anything, but I only provide the same things others get that aren’t my friend.

Oh, and if you aren’t my friend, I will hate you so much that I will torture you forever.

What kind of relationship is that? I wouldn’t want that out of my car, let alone a friend!

I wish theists would think about this, next time they get their oil changed. Are they doing the same thing with a God? Listening to what a human has recommended they do to maintain this relationship? And waffling between what is the minimum requirements to keep God happy, yet not have to pay with taking care of the poor, loving others, giving up of time, labor and money? If they really believed in a God, why are they doing the bare minimum to keep it? If I truly was convinced my car needed the maintenance to operate, I would (reluctantly) spend the money. Believers are willing to sacrifice for their car, but not their God.

At least with my car, if I stop repairing it, it conks out. With God, once I stopped maintaining the relationship, I recognized that I was doing all the work—there was no God. He didn’t conk out; He was never there in the first place! I didn’t need to maintain a non-existent relationship.

A car needs its human to continue to perform. So, too, a God.

Anybody see my morals?

I woke up one day to find I had lost my morals. Oh, I didn’t know it at the time. Looking back, I could not even tell you what day it exactly was. But to my chagrin, I realize now that sometime ago they left me.

I felt the same. Dressed the same, went through the same morning routine. And I sat down before my computer with my coffee, reading the happenings of the night before. And I read a theist say:

“If I was an atheist, there would be nothing to stop me from robbing a bank, and murdering the guards.”

This, of course, did not move me in the slightest. While I am an atheist, I certainly have no intention of ever committing such acts. My retirement plans most definitely do not include prisons and long, hot showers with an angry mob of men. All I could think is that I am glad this theist believes in a morality based upon some God-concept, or else they would be a raving lunatic. I could only imagine the frustration they felt, sitting in church Sunday after Sunday, champing at the bit, wishing to kill someone and being restrained by that moral system.

And more and more, as I read on-line, and books by certain authors, I read how they, too, if they were atheists would have the opportunity, and even the desire to completely disregard morality, and become raving criminals. It amazed me how many of these people seemed to be so restrained by this pesky moral system that kept them from doing all the wonderful evil things they seemed to enjoy. How this moral system was the only basis by which they could lead productive lives.

It struck me: “Hmmm. I am an atheist. Apparently to all these people that grants me a license to do what I want, when I want and how I want. Aren’t they afraid of the justice system? I am. Don’t they consider other humans, regardless of some mandate of some humans telling them what God says to do or not do? I did and still do. But if all of these people are telling me this is what an atheist is supposed to be—who am I to disagree? I am somewhat new at the occupation.”

I looked at my wife. Now that I am an atheist, and have lost my morals, it seems I must want to rid myself of this nasty institution of marriage, and get a divorce. But I don’t want a divorce. Regardless of what some musty book says, or what some fellow in a suit tells me on Sunday Morning, I love my wife. I want to stay married to her, because of who she is, because of our commitment to each other, not because I “have to.”

I am sure I am a big disappointment to all the other morally depraved atheists by actually staying in my marriage, rather than abandoning it for a life of casual sex, TV dinners, and lonely bottles of wine.

I still give to charities. I hope no other atheists read that. I would be in severe danger of being kicked out of the atheist-club, I fear. No self-respecting, non-moral person, having ever lost their absolute and God-given determination of right and wrong would EVER bother to do that! There is no law requiring it, no prison sentence hanging over my head. Why, there is no self-gratification in that at all.

I could swear I still have morals, but theist after theist after theist insist I do not. I must have lost them somewhere. Sigh.

Sometimes I am asked, “What are your morals, now?”

“Oh, I think the Golden Rule---“
“STOP! That is in OUR Moral System. You cannot borrow from our worldview!”

I can’t? I had no idea that moral worldviews were copyrighted, patented and protected. What else am I prohibited from borrowing? I am especially fond of the number “four.” It is in the Bible more than 250 times. Can we no longer use that number either? Is that borrowing?

In the recent Supreme Court cases, there has been uproar about the appearance of the Ten Commandments in Government buildings. We have heard how the law is “based” on the Ten Commandments. I would have thought by now some clever Christian group would have patented the Ten Commandment Moral System, and raked in the royalties every time a law was passed.

“New legislation on tax cuts for the rich? That’ll be $450,000 for use of our patent on the Ten Commandments.”

And how exactly can I “borrow” from a moral worldview?

“Hey, neighbor, little low this month. Can I borrow a cup of charity?”
“Aren’t you an atheist?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“Well, I am a Christian.”
”Whoops, sorry. I’ll try a house that actually has some charity.”

Personally, since many theists presume I have no limitations whatsoever on my actions, I would think they would be relived I use any part of their system at all. They are free to use mine—I wonder though if actually caring about other humans is too hard?

Or, I have been informed that once I lost absolutes in morality, I am left with no morality at all. Now, to me, I figure relative morality is just as binding, but apparently that is because I have lost all morals, and have no clue what I am talking about.

If some fellow is robbing me, and I explain how that is immoral, do I really care that he determines it is immoral because of relative morality or absolute morality? I think not. If I say spouse abuse is wrong, because of relative morality, does that make it less so than the person that says it is wrong because of absolute morality?

Apparently, once one loses one’s morality, there is hardly any sense in attempting to regain a portion of it. You can see how I never knew I had lost my morals, and could not comprehend the predicament I was in.

Recently a new wrinkle has appeared, revealing what dire straits I found myself. In debating with theists, I am informed that because I have no absolute morality, I must have no absolutes, so everything is relative, so everything I say has no meaning.

Wow! I really, really, really did not mean to lose my morals. I did not know it would be so debilitating. I look down, I can still dress myself. I think I can still determine the volume of a cube. I operate my motor vehicle, and other drivers are not honking and flying out of my way because of my inability to function. I can still read the Bible and see what it says.

I had no idea those items were tied into my morality. I truly must appear as a raving lunatic to all those individuals.

Further, I have been informed that the reason I deconverted was because of my sin and depraved nature. Finally! A glimmer of hope. See, I thought I had lost my morality. Turns out that I never had morality in the first place. Why--I haven’t lost anything at all!

I am so relieved.

Therefore, with a smile on my face, I can face the world. I help other humans, I try to be as gracious as I can, and I apologize when I have hurt others. I help others less fortunate than I; I enjoy life, love, family and friends. All with my complete lack of morals firmly in place.

So, to all of you claiming I have no morals—you are right; I don’t. Not a one. I can do what I want, when I want, where I want. Instead of having morals imposed on me, I choose to impose morals on myself. I did not lose morals, I gained them.

If you are helping me to look for my morals, just ask me. I will tell you. If you believe that I don’t have any, or didn’t have any, or have the wrong kind, or simply don’t know what I am talking about, that’s O.K. I have plenty of charity. You can borrow a cup of mine anytime you want.

Keep on rolling

I’ve not been blogging as much, due to the business of spring, and the fact I am off debating Christians elsewhere.

Why do I insist on dogmatically debating Christianity in particular and theism as a whole? As with much in life, there is no one easy answer.

Sometimes I do it to just to inform others. I know, as a Christian, how uninformed I was as to various aspects of theism, and I attended Church all my life. How betrayed I felt, when I realized what had been kept from me. What is wrong with sharing all sides of the story? Yes, I know that many Christians do not like that type of confrontation, and would prefer to be fed only one side, and assured that the other person has done all the research and come up with the right conclusion.

I am not that person. I like to see both sides and decide for myself. I wonder if there are others, like me, that would also like to be given alternative views and reflect on them.

Sometimes I do it to debate. I love to argue. It is the reason I enjoy my job. Not meaningless argument just to argue, but true interaction, with points being made by both sides, and a commitment to the endeavor to extract the best points possible for oneself, and critique the best points possible for one’s opponent.

I enjoy framing an argument. Can I persuade a neutral party? Can I actually persuade someone that is opposed to me—very tough to do. I do not shrink from this, but rather revel in it. Can the other person teach me something, that I can take to the next debate? Or be better prepared next time? I enjoy that too.

But recently, I have been dumbfounded at how brutal Christianity is. Many times I debate it because, despite the good theism provides, its determent far outweighs any benefit it has. Do I fear an outright theocracy in America? No, people enjoy their freedoms too much. Forcing abortion or homosexuals, or strip clubs underground would only introduce a criminal element the government is unprepared to handle.

The detriment I see is in the prejudice and fear instilled in proponents of these religions, to the degradation of others. Think about how harmful the concept of Hell is for a child. Talking to children about those who died, there are two groups:

1) They are in Heaven; and
2) Only God knows their heart.

We knew at a very young age, the No. 2’s were in hell. We weren’t stupid. We knew Uncle Bob and Aunt Susie did not live a “Christian” lifestyle and were destined to fry. We liked Uncle Bob, it was just one of those things.

And this constant idea of Hell, hanging over our heads. If somehow we picked the wrong Christianity (like Mormonism) or didn’t do Christianity correctly, we, too, could some day be tortured forever. We all knew the “backsliders.” We knew where they were sliding to.

Even those that were in had a pecking order. We knew who was more saintly, and who was not. And we certainly knew we were free to call sinners whatever name suited them, and those too legalistic, whatever name suited THEM. “Pigs” or “White-washed tombs” whatever fit the occasion. We weren’t any of those things, only those too far to the left or right of us.

And how Christians can decry and call out those that believe differently. If Christianity said, “Meh. Some believe this some don’t. Respect a person for who they are, not what creed they claim” I would probably cease debating it tomorrow. If Christianity, in another bizarre extreme, actually started to practice what it claims, actually loving people, giving to the poor, and helping widows, I would heartily encourage Christianity!

I see it now more clearly. I have joined the pariah. Friends of long acquaintance no longer trust me with their children. Shoot, my own wife doesn’t trust me with my children! They fear I will blurt out the wrong thing—not support Christianity. Mention that “a” word and these children will be doomed to hell. That associating with one of the “them” (and for theists, “them” can mean a lot of people) would somehow taint them with their God.

If theism was the difference of picking out colors of cars, I would leave it alone. As it is dividing families, nations, people and individuals, I think I will keep the debate going a little longer.

Proving a negative

You can’t prove a negative.

I am a strong atheist. Which means I affirmatively state “There is no God.” Is there a proof that, with mathematical precision, we can confidently declare god(s) do not exist? No. But the evidence is so over-whelming, and the possibility so minute, state it with confidence.

Further, for me, being a strong atheist means I do not shrink from assuming the burden of proof. While the theist and weak atheist battle over who has the burden of proof over what, I gladly reach in and snatch it from both of them. Let me have it! I will present my proofs, and if it is not persuasive, will gladly assume I have failed.

But how does one prove a negative? That an event did NOT occur? The point was driven home forcefully yesterday morning, which I think exemplifies “proving a negative.”

I received a call at 9:30 a.m.

Attorney: Uh-oh. This is not good.
Me: What’s up?
Attorney: We had a hearing this morning. The judge is waiting for you.
Me: What!?! How would I have known?
Attorney: I sent you a notice.
Me: No, you didn’t.

Now, I am stuck “proving a negative.” Proving that I did not get notice of that day’s hearing. Easy to prove I got notice, a copy is in my file. Harder to prove I didn’t. What factors do I have in my favor?

1. I am always early for court dates. Always. I don’t skip dates.
2. This is an important client that I have appeared on every date in every file with our office.
3. I have appeared on every date before on this file.
4. I have a copy of the actual notice with a different date.
5. I have an order from the judge, with a different date.
6. I have a letter from the attorney with a different date.
7. It was a motion I wanted to attend.
8. The case was at a stand-still until the motion is heard.
9. I won’t be paid until this motion is heard.
10. I was free, that morning, to attend.
11. I dropped my office work, and asked they wait for me to have the motion.
12. I went to the motion.
13. I asked the attorney for a copy of the new notice, and he had “forgotten” it back at the office.

Now, this is a simplistic example, but is it still possible that I received the notice and ignored it? Sure. But so remotely unlikely that I can confidently state, “I did not receive the notice.” Thus proving a negative. Upon learning new information, (like my secretary saying, “Oh I received that notice and threw it away.”) I could change my position. But not with what I have now.

For me, it is the same as proving there is no God. Is it possible? Sure, in some remote possibility, but the factors and evidence are so against it to confidently state there is none. Upon learning new information, I could change my position, but I have seen no compelling evidence yet.

Which makes me a strong atheist.

Try, Try Again

I was reading Lya Kahlo’s deconversion story (it is in three parts) and quite a bit of what she says resonates with me.

One thing that kept jumping out to me was the statements to her about “trying” religion. “If you would only try this religion….” is something many deconverts, myself included, hear many, many times.

How, exactly, does one go about “trying” a religion? It is not a pair of shoes, or an electronic, that we can test out for a few days to see how it performs. We cannot decide one day, “I am going to believe Hinduism, and see how that pans out.” I understand to the Christian, they have been taught, and truly believe, that if one just starts to seek Jesus; He will sweep in and complete the task:

“Jesus, I am going to try to believe you are Go—“
“HALLELUJAH, pass the pickle juice, we got another one! Here I come, and I will now imbue you with knowledge, and enlightenment, and joy and peace, and write your Name in the Book, and don’t you worry. I will take it from here.”

To many Christians, if we aren’t also a Christian, we just didn’t take that first step. Or did it incorrectly.

I debated and lurked for an extensive time on Internet Infidels. Occasionally a new poster would appear, and say, “If only you people would try Christianity…” or “If you only would read the Bible…” We would chuckle. They didn’t realize there were ex-pastors, ex-deacons, ex-Sunday School teachers, people that had been Christians for dozens of years, all of whom had “tried” Christianity to their hardest. Or people that knew the Bible inside and out, and had read it in the original Greek or Hebrew, better than the new poster.

So what does it mean, for me, to “try” Christianity?

By intellect? Should I study the facets of the creation of the Bible, the history of the Jewish nation, the history of Palestine, canon, textual criticism, scholarly works by the best Christian philosophers? I did.

This is a humorous catch-22 for the person that tells me to “try” Christianity. 9 out of 10 people that say that, have less knowledge about Christianity than I do. In fact, it seems the more studied one is on Christianity, the less one uses the phrase, “you should ‘try’ Christianity.”

I can start listing areas in which I have studied Christianity, and soon they realize they have not performed such study. When caught in an unknown, it is often these very same people that tell me I am using “wisdom of the world” which is foolishness. Am I supposed to study, use my brain, my ability to process arguments, my ability to reason, or not?

In trying Christianity, how much knowledge is sufficient to say I have tried it, and how much becomes too much, that I have become too knowledgeable, and “leaned” on my own understanding? There is some happy medium that Christians want. Just enough to buy what they say, but not enough to question it.

By faith? Here, especially, is where they don’t get it. I did live by faith. I had no problem believing that someday we would resolve these prickly little quandaries, when we in heaven. That it was right, and any apparent contradictions we had were a result of insufficient intelligence as compared to God.

When I took my first steps (not knowing it at the time) toward deconversion, it was not out of doubt, or lack of faith. Quite the opposite. I saw a group of atheists that, sadly, did not know any better, and with a little courtesy, some explanation, and some prayer, I could better inform them of the reality of the Christian life. I had no idea, and would have scoffed anyone that said they could drag me into their belief system. My faith was tested, and not at issue.

I “tried” Christianity by faith for 35 years. I never once, in that time, questioned its viability. Issues within Christianity—yes. But the overall premise? Never.

How long is “long enough”? How much faith is necessary to say, “Yep. That fellow tried it.” Was I to go for 45 years? 55 years? 100 years? If someone tells me that I need to try having more faith, I would wonder how I could possibly go about doing so.

By Experience? I had mountain top experiences. Moments where I could swear I almost heard an audible voice of God. Where I felt as if my entire body was infused with God’s presence. I saw what I thought were miracles. Healings that could not be explained. Events that were far beyond coincidences that must have required a God to come about.

Yet, I have reviewed other faiths. Faiths that I was taught were in the wrong God. A God they had made up in their mind. A faith that was attributing events as miracles that were not. What made my miracles any different? What made my experiences any more viable? When comparing them, I realized that there are too many self-imposed beliefs that are incorrect, for me to arrogantly assume mine, and only mine were correct.

I will admit I have never spoke in tongues. Due to my non-charismatic practice, I never had the opportunity. Is that it? Was that the key? Should I “try” to speak in tongues, and this would make it click? I haven’t cast out demons, drank poison or been bitten by snakes. All of which many Christians would claim as an experience.

What experiences must I try, before I can officially say, I have “tried” Christianity.

This is one of those pat phrases that people toss off—“try Christianity” without really thinking through the implications. How? What steps must I take? Or by even asking what steps, have I blown it already. What should I study? What should I not? What should I put faith in? What not? How do I measure faith to determine it was enough? What experiences do I need to qualify as trying out a religion?

And have Christians done this themselves. No, I am not talking some radical change to “try” Buddhism, or agnosticism, or Hinduism. But have they tried Liberal Christianity? Have they “tried” to view the Bible as non-literal? As non-inerrant? Have they ‘tried” other brands of acceptable Christianity?

If so, I would be curious as to how they “tried it” and what I would have to equally do (that I did not earlier) to try Christianity.

Juan

On a rare occasion I write a short story. This one came to me from a dream I had last night, combined with some thoughts about a friend of mine. Never fear, I will be back to my cantankerous, argumentative self with the next blog!





I coach a city basketball league for Third and Fourth Graders. You know the ones. Where 160 boys sign up, and are divided into 16 teams, one practice a week (hoping at least 6 show up) and the games on Saturday at the local high school. We are not supposed to keep track of win/losses, but do anyway. Parents cheer, and can get out of hand and I get 10 boys assigned to me, just like the other coaches.

Two years ago, one of the boys assigned to me was Juan. We have a few large farms in the area, resulting in migrant workers and a Mexican segment as part of our little society. Just like the other 9, Juan handed me his permission slip, carefully filled out and signed. I have a hard time with names, so I am grabbing the slips and trying desperately to assign the names to the faces.

“Matthew, John, Rod, Tom, Juan….”

I remember Juan as a triple threat. To us. He could not shoot, could not dribble and could not pass. But many boys at this level have trouble with these basics, and in this regard he did not stand out. No, where Juan excelled was in fouls.

In our very first scrimmage in our very first practice, Juan was hit by another player when trying to pass the ball.

“He hit me!”
”Now, Rod. You can’t touch the other player. You can hit the ball, but if you touch the other player, it is a foul. The opponent either gets the ball, or can take free shots.”
“But I didn’t do it on purpose.”
“I know. Even if you do it by accident, it can be called a foul.”

Now, I recall the conversation going exactly in that fashion. Later events revealed that Juan heard, “As long as you claim it was an accident, you can strike the other player.” I had created a weapon. Double O-Juan.

Our first game was progressing as first games do. Awkward and messy. A far more experienced player on the opposing team easily dribbled around Juan. So Juan grabbed him! Effective in stopping the player, yes. But that is going to be called every time.

“Tweee! Foul on Number 4” (Those words were to become a mantra.)
“It was an accident!” (Another mantra.)

It was early in the season; Juan wasn’t experienced. I carefully explained again the problem in touching another player. I thought I solved the problem as any good coach could. I was wrong.

“Tweee! Foul on Number 4”
“It was an accident!”

Again, I explained the problem. Again I thought I had resolved the problem. Again I was wrong.

“Twee! Foul on Number 4”
“It was an accident!”

This was getting ridiculous.

At the next practice, I looked to see who brought Juan. Perhaps a father, or older brother could work with him, and reduce the one-armed chopper. Sigh. No such luck. He rode in on his bicycle.

Practice went as second practices do. Same as the first. I am not messing up the names as much, and I can start to separate the better players to those not as good. Everything great until the scrimmage.

“Juan, you CAN’T hit the other players!”
“It was an accident.”

Oh, boy. I could see a long, long season ahead of me.

Game two.

“Twee! Foul on Number 4”
“It was an accident!”

The back of my neck started to get red. Most times I get a wonderful group of parents. This time was no exception. But I could just imagine the conversations going on in the stands.

“Why do we have to keep losing the ball because of that Juan kid?”
“Can’t the coach teach him better?”
“Shouldn’t the coach do something?”

I didn’t hear those comments out-loud, but the thoughts were being psychically projected right into my brain. At every whistle for those fouls, I shrank one inch.

Diplomatically, I asked, “Juan, do you have anyone to work with at home on your basketball?
“Not really. My neighbor is only 4 and I beat him.” (I hoped that meant as in “better play” and not “foul him until he is black and blue.”)
“Do you want to come about half an hour early and we can work together?”
His eyes lit up. “Sure.”
It seems like every season I pick up one or two players that I spend extra time with.

Juan showed up a half-hour early for the practice. I will admit to being sorely tempted to show him what it is like to be fouled by a 45-year-old, 190 pound man, but kept my composure. I showed him skills as to taking the ball WITHOUT touching the other player, how to keep hands up, and simply cause confusion without touching. I showed him how to block without fouling.

He soaked it in like a sponge. Good, that is all he needed, a little one-on-one time. Practice went well. And then the scrimmage…..

“Juan. You CAN’T touch the other players”
“It was---“ and the entire team said, “an accident!”
“Juan, what about those things I showed you”
“I forgot.”
“Coach, what are you showing Juan?”
“I just wanted to show Juan some extra steps.”
“Can you show us?”

Thus my practices became extended by a half-hour. I still worked with Juan individually for most of that extra time. There had to be SOMETHING that would turn off that switch on fouls!

We entered into a familiar pattern. Juan and I practiced together, the team practiced, we played games.

“Tweee! Foul on Number 4.”

I went home and tore my hair out. I had never coached a kid with such a mental block! His dribbling had improved, his shots actually came close, and some passes were quite good. I remembered that I had never seen a mother, or a father, or friend appear at the game with him, and so, taking some long, deep breaths, would calm down. Maybe a hard home life would make up for this.

Halfway through the season, I had enough.

“Juan, if you get five fouls, I am pulling you for the rest of the game.” In our league we didn’t keep track of individual fouls (since no one expected a Juan) and there was no fouling out. There was now.

Of course, it was only a matter of time, that being in the third quarter.

“Tweee! Foul on Number 4”
“That was only four fouls!” (something new)

But we both knew it was five.

“Juan – go sit on the bench.”

He sat at the farthest end, as far away from me as possible. Angry, defiant and upset. After all, it was only an “accident.” I sat on my end, feeling 10% guilty for Juan, 10% guilty for the parents of my team, 10% guilty for the parents of the other team, and 70% justified that I have to teach these kids correct basketball.

After the game, I tried to go over the Juan to explain, but he had left. At the next practice, he showed up, cheerful as ever, as if nothing had happened. He scrimmaged, and actually, honestly and truly did not foul a single soul! I thought, “Hey. I found the switch.”

For the next game, I again told Juan that after five fouls, he would be out. With a grim and serious expression he nodded his agreement. Things were looking up!

“Tweee! Foul on Number 4”
“Tweee! Foul on Number 4”
“Tweee! Foul on Number 4”

It was Juan at his worst! I think he got three fouls in three minutes! I called Juan over:

“Juan. If you foul out, I am suspending you from the next game.”

I saw his face drop. This was going too far! But I had to do something to get through to this kid! Maybe something drastic. He played the rest of the game good as gold. Foul number 4 came at the beginning of the fourth quarter.

“Please, God,” I thought “Just one more quarter. That is all I ask. One quarter.” But it was not to be. Within the last two minutes, Juan went in for the steal (gulp!) and actually got the ball! I could see it was a clean steal!

“Tweee! Foul on Number 4”
“It was…..it was……” he couldn’t finish.

The referees knew Juan. The parents knew Juan. Everybody expected the foul, and it was easy for the referee to make this call, even though it was incorrect.

Juan came over with tears in his eyes.

“I’m suspended for the next game” he shrieked.
“No, Juan. You are not. That was a bad call on the ref’s part. I will let you play.”

Through the tears, he looked at me and smiled. We bonded for that brief moment. He had vindication.

Juan didn’t show up at the next practice. He had never missed one before, and the events of the last week were too much for it to be a coincidence. Maybe something was wrong. He didn’t show up at the next game. Something was definitely wrong. After he missed the next practice, I asked the other boys where Juan lived. No one knew. I asked where he went to school? One boy said, “I think he goes to my school. Washington Elementary.”

The next week I visited Washington Elementary after school was out.

“I am looking for Juan Gonzalez,” I told the principal. (I had gotten the last name off the permission slip.) She looked at me with a half-puzzled, half bemused look on her face.

“What Grade is he in?”
“The Third.”
“Why don’t you talk to the Third-grade teacher?” she said, giving me directions.

I met Mrs. Hostler.

“I am looking for Juan Gonzalez.”

She looked at me with the same half-puzzled, half-bemused look.

“What is it?”
“Many of the Mexican students feel that Caucasians treat them all alike. As a partial joke, and partial reaction, they refer to themselves as one name, being ‘Juan Gonzalez’ Perhaps if you describe him…?”

“He had a crooked front tooth and—“
“Michael,” she said with a smile. (Great! I even had his name wrong this whole time!) “What about him? Do you know where he is?”
“Uh….I was hoping you would tell me!”
“No,” she sighed, “It is not uncommon. Either better work rumored elsewhere. Or a relative invites the family. I have had a few Mexican students just not come in. No explanation, no note, nothing. Michael hasn’t been here for over two weeks.”
“Do you have an address? Somewhere to find him?”
“We aren’t supposed to give that out. I only met his mother once, and to be honest, I don’t think you would find them at that address. I am sorry.”

While Mrs. Hostler may have had this experience a few times, this was a first for me. I felt as if my heart had dropped into my shoes. After all that work I had put into that kid!

“You might like this,” she said brightening, “It was a picture he drew. Now that I see you, I am sure he would want you to have it.”

She went over to that wall that is in every classroom in the world, in which the students’ artwork is displayed. She pulled off a child’s drawing and handed it to me.

I couldn’t help it, the tears gushed out. It was the familiar child drawing, with two stick figures, one obviously a child, the other an adult. They were bouncing a ball between them. The adult had on a backwards baseball cap (just like I always wore) and a big “C” on the shirt (just like my coach’s shirt I wore). At the top of the sheet were the pre-printed words, obviously describing the assignment—“My Best Friend.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know he meant that much to you.” How do I explain that he didn’t mean that much to me? That he was just a kid that needed a little more coaching. It was the fact of how much I had meant to him. How hard his young life was, as compared to my easy upbringing. How much more could I have done for him?

As if she could read my thoughts, the teacher said, “Don’t feel badly. You gave Michael some very happy moments for the time that the two of you could be together. He clearly liked you very much, and that should be enough.”

With an awkward “thank you” I left. I matted that drawing, and placed it on the wall in my study. As I type this, I must have glanced at it 1000 times.

Juan (I still think of him as “Juan”) taught me a valuable lesson. For the time that I interact with other people, I do not have to play the assigned role given me. If they want a friend, I can be a friend. If they want a father, a big brother, a grandfather, or just an ear, I can be any of those. And while I cannot be there for them 2 years ago, nor 2 years hence, I can be that thing they need right now. While I may think they need a coach, they may really need a friend.

I still coach the same. I still get the same joys and frustrations. But now I take a little time to make sure that my players don’t need just a coach, but may also need something else.

And Michael? If you are out there and read this, I want you to know that your best friend from third grade has a basketball hoop up, and you can come over and play anytime. I’ll even let you foul.

Not True

How far can we take the “No True Scotsman” claim? Can we extrapolate it out, to the absurd point in which we can claim the other person does not even qualify as a human?

We all know and most have seen the claim in one form or another, of the “No True Scotsman.” Most commonly used as “You weren’t a true Christian in the first place.” Briefly, it is a claim that, a person was NOT part of a group, even though they claimed to have been, because it is important to the person making the claim.

For example, I may want to insist that Joe is not from Michigan. Joe claims to be from Michigan. Joe has documentation to prove he is from Michigan. But when I ask, “Where did you live?” and he replies, “Ann Arbor” I scream out “A-HA! ‘True’ Michiganders use their hand as a map, and point out their location. Since you did not use your hand, you are not a ‘True Michigander.’ I do not care about your paperwork, or even if you actually lived within the boundaries of the state. You do not qualify.”

We, of course here it as in “You were not a True Christian.” Or those that performed the Inquisition were not “True Christians.” Or any person that Christians do not want to be associated with, are disbarred from the group, since they were not “True Christians.”

I can understand the reasoning behind this. First, because it may conflict with a person’s beliefs. If they believe once saved, always saved, they cannot have people being Christians and then not being Christians. Or if they believe faith is demonstrated by works, they cannot have murderers and torturers qualifying.

Second, because if we allow anyone to claim to be a Christian, the word becomes so diluted that it would effectively have no meaning. Of course, we have the perennial problem of who gets to define “Christian” so as to use it correctly. That is still a toss-up.

And Christians aren’t solely to blame. If somone claims to have been an atheist-turned-Christian, and I learn they had no idea of any of the arguments against God(s), or how the Bible came into being, I choke back the “No true atheist” fallacy. I have had to learn to take people at their word. Yes, they really were an atheist.

Or if someone told me they were an atheist, yet believed in a God that only interacted on occasion, the thought, “not an atheist” would certainly cross my mind. There are a few ways to approach this fallacy:

“I was a Christian”

A) “No you weren’t.”

The problem with this approach is that we have immediately created a hostile environment. This implies I am at the least deluded, at the most dishonest. Further, the person saying this to me loses credibility, as they are making a statement that I am very aware is untrue. Yes, I was a Christian. So not only does it increase hostility, it loses one’s credibility. Why use it?

B) “From my perspective, I don’t see how you could have been a Christian. Can you explain what being a Christian meant to you?”

Notice the difference? See the dialogue opening up? Maybe we could reach some understanding whereby I see why you wouldn’t claim I was a Christian, and you would understand why I claim I was. We may not agree, but at least we learn something without losing credibility.

For those reasons, I never became too involved in the problem of the “No True Scotsman.” Never gave it much thought. Used against me, I ignore it. I didn’t use it on others.

Until I recently read a “No true Calvinist” claim. Not only can a person claim another was never a Christian, they can claim they were never a certain type of Christian. If one isn’t dipped, we can use the “No true Baptist.” If one isn’t confirmed, the “No true Catholic.”

But why stop there? If one doesn’t conform to the right 66 Books, one is not a “True Biblist.” If one questions (or perhaps does not) the Pericope Adultera one is not a “True Gospel of Johnist.” If one does not hold to the correct theory of the development of Matthew, Mark and Luke, one is not a “True Synopticist.”

It reduces to a level of lunacy!

Where are these definitions? Is there some diamond-encrusted golden cornerstone of the Universe that lists the “true” definitions of every word, so we can peer into a telescope and determine who qualifies for what? Of course not! Definitions are just common usages of words. What was “cool” in 1800 is much different than “cool” in 2006. What was “gay” in the 1920’s is not what is “gay” in the 1980’s.

The dictionary is not some absolute truth, by which we must conform in order to be correct or not. By using a word in a different way, over time we can change the definition of that word. Just because a word has religious implications, does not imbibe it with properties by which it becomes a one-time absolute meaning.

Who defines, “Christian”? Many would say “God.” But where? In the Bible? This raises questions as well. “He who believes and is baptized will be saved, and he who does not believe will be condemned.” We could choose this as a bright-line definition of Christian/non-Christian. The problem? Jesus goes on to further define “believes” as being a person that casts out demons, drinks poison, handles snakes and heals. Is that also included in our definition of Christian? What if we only do 3 out of 4? Worse, this is in the long ending of Mark, so a “No true Markist” that believes the ending is not inspired would say this is “No True Definition” of a “No True Christian.”

Is it one that God has predestined? One that never sins? One that never lies? All are possible definitions, depending on what verse in the Bible one uses. Is it all, some, none?

I suggest we all drop any such statement. It doesn’t progress the conversation a bit. It only creates hostility. It only loses credibility.

Mission Control - we have a problem

Yesterday, I was traveling in rush-hour traffic behind a car with a bumper sticker that read, “Don’t worry – God is in Control.” And as we crawled along we passed a fender-bender, pulled over to the side of the road. I couldn’t help wondering if God was in control of that!

What if it wasn’t just a ding in some metal? What if it was a pile-up, with hurt people, and severe, life-altering injuries? Would God still be in control of that?

How much is God actually in control? Does He care as to who is elected President of the United States, or Prime Minister of Great Britain, and get actively involved in politics? Does He monitor the finances of Christian corporations, to prevent embezzlement?

One of the catch-all excuses for why the world is the way it is, is the claim that God holds Free Will as the highest precept. The reason we even have a hell, is that God does not want to interfere too much, thus eliminating faith. He needs free will to reign supreme. It is over love, over communication, over evil, sickness, disease and death.

Why did God even have that awful tree in the Garden of Eden? To give Adam & Eve Free will. Why do we have the problem of natural evil, such as tsunamis? Because, in order to protect free will, God must allow such events to happen. Time and time and time again, I am assured by the theist that the reason God won’t communicate directly with me, is that it will somehow impinge on my free will.

But as God is in control, doesn’t He impinge on Free will all the time? Theists that pray actually hope that God will force his way into a life, and set aside their Free will. Think of the simple prayer, “God, help the doctors that do this surgery. Guide their hands. Give them strength, and wisdom to perform their work. Amen.” How many 1000’s of times have I heard that prayer!

Yet the theist is directly asking God to impose himself on the doctor’s free will. That doctor has the ability and freedom to slip with the scalpel, cutting too much, or not admitting the surgery is beyond his capabilities, or perhaps not getting enough sleep the night before. What the theist is asking is for God to set aside the doctor’s free will, preventing the knife from slipping too far, giving him a quick kick in the seat of the pants to wake him up.

Deists, of course, don’t have this problem, but most brands of theism have their God intervening all the time, crushing free will. The story of the tower of Babel is a great example. Humans had the free will to communicate in one language. God couldn’t have that, so he stepped in and deliberately caused confusion.

In order to take blame away from God (who is in Control) and impose it upon humans, the free will excuse will be employed. But if a person starts to worry that free will may eliminate their brand of theism, the God is in control excuse is brought out. It is the best of both worlds. However, a pattern comes forward that becomes suspect.

As we watch these arguments unfold, amazingly free will is always, always, always happening just at the moment it is most convenient for the theist’s position. When we inspect why God would let children die, free will is handy to let the children stay dead, and keep God from being implicated. God didn’t want it that way, it just had to be, to protect free will. When we attempt to use reason to investigate God, free will becomes most inconvenient, and God’s sovereignty is brought out. Who are we to question a God?

Yet this is unconvincing to an atheist. Why? Because we realize the theist is in no better position to determine what is free will and what is God-controlled. And by constantly defending God in the most favorable light, the theist’s credibility is compromised as being biased. No theist is going to state, ever, “There you got me. God shouldn’t have imposed his will against the humans in that situation.”

Look at this minor automobile collision. Was it just God, letting two drivers use their free will? Or was it God, attempting to have two drivers meet, so that they could show love toward each other? Was God preventing a much more tragic accident? Or was God sending a message to other drivers in the area? Or did God, not caring, never even know about the accident? Was he in control, or was it free will?

There simply is no way to determine this.

I can read all the fancy philosophical arguments on whether humans have free will or not. I can read them on whether God has free will or not. The one thing I do not read is a method by which we can determine, “Here God is restricting free will and here he is not.” And if we cannot determine it on any occasions, how can we say He ever does, or never does?

What would a world look like, if God sat back and never interacted at all? What would a world look like if God interacted at every decision, no matter how slight? As we have no basis of comparison, either prospect is a guess. I, obviously, think the world would look like it does without God’s interaction, but a theist would equally obviously disagree. O.K., but with this “sometimes in, sometimes out” theory, we are left with pure speculation.

If God is in control, then why do people get traffic tickets? Can’t they state that God is the one that was driving at the time?

Story or History?

Have you noticed how in stories, the characters can “pop in” at convenient times, and convenient places, at the will of the author? If they need Aunt Maude to appear at Sunday dinner, in order to propel the story along, she is written in. We don’t question as to how she got there, or why, as we understand that this character is necessary to the story and therefore at this moment, she will appear.

In fact, we chuckle a bit at Star Trek fans (such as myself) who argue over incongruous events in differing installments. “In Episode #27 they turned left from the Captain’s office to go to the engine room, but in Episode #83 they turned right. Which is it?” The reason we laugh, is that we know it is just a story. These aren’t factual events. These are television shows, penned by Hollywood writers who have no intention of keeping the facts congruent, as they aren’t facts—they are stories. To argue over the validity of the “facts” of these fictions would be silly.

One of the questions that continually perpetuates throughout discussions of the events of the First Century in Palestine, as recorded in the Bible, is how much is fact, and how much is fiction. Now, one may take the position that if it is recorded, it is absolutely positively, no questions asked a historical event. But is this argument convincing? If someone was coming across the events, as written, for the first time, would they be persuaded that it is a story, or that it actually happened that way?

One of the events that has all the elements of a story and not an actual happening, is the moving of all eleven disciples, and Jesus’ entire family from Galilee to Jerusalem overnight. It was done to make the story convenient, out of a desire to move the story along, rather than out of any historical basis.

First of all, it is to be noted that Jesus’ base of operations was in Galilee. (Mr. 1:28) It was here that he did miracles, preached, traveled and talked to crowds. But most importantly, it was from here that he chose his Disciples.

Every disciple was from Galilee. (Acts 2:7) They had wives (Mr. 1:30), jobs (Mr. 1:18), families (Mr. 1:19) and even homes (Mr. 2:15). In a word—roots. This is where, if things went wrong, they would go first.

For a year or three, they travel with Jesus, both in Galilee, and out, and we can fast forward to the night of the Last Supper. After eating, all but Judas (off betraying), go to the Mount of Olives. Jesus explains that he is about to die, and says that after He is resurrected, he will “Go before you to Galilee.” Mt. 26:32. This is most natural. Jesus recognizes that they are about to be scattered, and their most natural retreat would be home—Galilee.

Jesus’ mother and two of the Disciples mother still live in Galilee at this time, because it is noted they came from there to see Jesus die. Mr. 15:41. When the women go to visit the tomb, they find a young man there, who again confirms exactly what we expect, exactly what was said, “Go tell the disciples Jesus will meet you in Galilee.” (Mr. 16:8)

Exactly as they were told, exactly as suspected, Jesus meets the disciples in Galilee. Mt. 28:16. According to John, the Disciples hung around the room for eight days (John 20:26) but after that, met Jesus right where we expected—Galilee. (John 21:1) (Yes, I am aware of the added ending of John 21. So which one is the inspired version? Chap. 20, where we leave the disciples 8 days post resurrection in Jerusalem, or Chap 21, where Jesus rehabilitates Peter? If one wants them in Jerusalem, the only way to do so, is place Chap. 21 chronologically before Chap. 20. Why, then, are they reversed? Good study.)

At this point we see what we would humanly, naturally expect. Jesus and his Disciples’ base is in Galilee. The crowd is unfriendly in Jerusalem. The obvious point of retreat is Galilee. Or look at it this way. Assuming the Jesus movement is dead. Kaput. Jesus died and wasn’t resurrected, where do the disciples go? Back to their jobs. Back to their families and homes. Back to the lives they had before. Sure, one or two may continue the farce, but not all eleven. They would go home.

Or, if they are convinced by seeing a resurrected Jesus, both in Jerusalem, but later in Galilee, what better place to start the movement than at home? These are the people that saw Jesus’ miracles, heard his preaching, know the disciples personally. Even today, when people are converted, who are the first they attempt to win over? Their friends and family! The most natural place in the world for the disciples to start this church movement is in Galilee. Home.

Up until now, everything seems fine. There is only one catch. Luke wants to be a historian. And what Luke knows about the history of the church is that it started in Jerusalem. (Acts 2:1-7) Peter was from Jerusalem. (Gal. 1:18) Jesus’ brother is from Jerusalem. (Gal. 1:19) In fact, all of the apostles were staying in Jerusalem. (Acts 1:13)

The Church grows in Jerusalem. (Acts 6:7). Every indication Luke has before him is that the church’s earliest leaders are from Jerusalem. How in the blue blazes can he rectify the problem that the legends say these were people from Galilee, yet the church clearly began in Jerusalem?

Just like any storyteller, Luke moves the entire group to a place he wants them without necessity of providing a reason. All eleven disciples and Jesus family (Acts 1:14), move, en masse to Jerusalem, in less than a month, with nary a thought of Galilee again. But does it make sense?

To give an idea of the complete abandonment of Galilee, the word “Galilee” or “Galilean” is mentioned 60 times in the four Gospels. True, some are descriptions of persons, such as Herod being tetrarch of Galilee (Lk. 31:1), but most of these are mentions of people from Galilee, or persons active in Galilee. In the whole rest of the New Testament, “Galilee” or “Galilean” is only mentioned another 9 times. It is as if it dropped off the face of the earth!

Or, perhaps another way of looking at it. Luke has the initial preaching, and growth of the Church in Jerusalem. (Acts 6:7) One of the most obvious initial outreaches would be Galilee, for all of the reasons stated—friends, family and familiarity. So is this where they go? Nope, instead, as the persecution began they start sending Christians out to Judea and Samaria. The apostles stay in Jerusalem. Acts 8:1. Not a single apostle is concerned about his family back home in Galilee? No one says, “Hey, why don’t I go back to Galilee and ride this thing out?”

They send Christians everywhere but Galilee! In fact, when Samaria gets the Word, the disciples are more than happy to send Paul and John to them. (Acts 8:14) Peter and John have no problem preaching throughout Samaria, but somehow their own region is completely missed. (Acts 8:25)

Finally, Paul becomes a Christian, and begins contending with Hellenists. It is only after Paul is converted, and begins his missionary work, that we finally learn of churches in Galilee. (Acts 9:31) Paul is more interested in converting the disciples’ family than the disciples were!

Paul, in his writing, has no notion of a Galilee, or teaching there. He talks of meeting the church the church leaders in Jerusalem, and ministering to the saints in Jerusalem. (Romans 15). Mark, writing the first Gospel, leaves us hanging with Jesus intending to be in Galilee, but the disciples never getting the word. Matthew, following Mark, leaves the disciples in Galilee. As well as John.

Luke is conflicted by the legend that places everyone from Galilee, and the history (as he knows it) that they were from Jerusalem. Simple solution—have them move. But why? Shouldn’t there be some continuity for the move? And Luke creates one.

As John did, after the death of Jesus, Luke leaves the disciples in the city of Jerusalem. (Lk. 24:33) When Jesus makes his starling appearance, he adds a phrase that isn’t found in the other gospels: “Stay in the city of Jerusalem until you receive the power from on high.” (Lk 24:29) There. He did it. Like a masterful weaving of tales, Luke has forced the move from Galilee to Jerusalem. Luke assumes Jesus family will only naturally follow the disciples.

In a story, this works very, very well. In reality, this raises questions. How easy would it be for Eleven men, as well as Mary and her other sons to ALL move. Not most. Not some. But every single one. First Century Palestine was primarily an agricultural society, with the farmers making only enough to live on. They were taxed/tithed at about a third. This would include wages, produce, spices, everything.

The cities lived off of these lands, the wealthy landowners being absentee landlords, having what excess was provided shipped to the city. A situation where the cities were parasitically living off the country. Any disciples that were fisherman would be out of a job. At best, they could hope to find labor work, but such work was primarily in farms—back in the country. How could they manage to obtain food to eat? Or rent a room for shelter?

Did they institute offerings as payment for their services? There are subtle hints to that effect at Acts 4:37 and Acts 6:3-4. This opens Pandora’s box, though, as it could remove the motivation factor of “Did they die for a lie?” No, they died because they needed the income, and were too much competition for the temple cult.

And how does Luke’s phrase “stay in the city” work in connection with the other gospels? It was said, while they were still startled to see Jesus. So, presumably, it was done before they saw him again (and again) in Galilee. Jesus says, “I will see you in Galilee” so, according to Luke, they stay in Jerusalem. Jesus says, “Stay in the city” so they go running off to Galilee. Jesus says, “You will be witnesses in Jerusalem, Judea and Samaria” so they stay in Jerusalem, sending everyone else to Judea and Samaria. It is like it is opposite world—whatever Jesus says, they do the exact opposite!

There is no reason for the church to begin in Jerusalem. Jesus drew crowds out to Galilee. There is no temple requirement in Jesus’ religion. (Although curiously enough, they continued to go to the temple.) It was intended to be a missionary work, and its base of operations could be anywhere. In fact, where better than Jesus’ childhood home?

Jesus’ tomb was not venerated. The location of his death not visited. There was nothing keeping the disciples in Jerusalem. Just the pesky fact that Luke had to work with—that the church started with people in Jerusalem, and Luke had to move ‘em there.

Do Christians just shrug this off, saying, “If the Bible says it happened, it happened” or do they think this through, saying, “This does seem a bit odd”?

Wadda ya know?

A common argument is made, and I have seen it a few times recently, that with all the information we don’t know about the universe, how can the atheist rely upon what little we do know to say there isn’t a god?

It usually looks something like this: “Think about all the information there ever was about the universe. How much does the smartest person in the world know about the universe? 10%? 5%? It seems likely, realizing there are 100 billion galaxies with 100 billions stars that we know less than 1% of the total knowledge there is about the universe. Isn’t it possible that within the 99% that we don’t know, a god exists? An atheist is relying just as much on faith as a theist by relying upon 1% to say what is true about the other 99%”

Of course there are minor variations on this argument, “how can you rely upon finite knowledge when humans have been shown to be wrong,” etc. There are numerous problems with this.

Let’s all be agnostic Sauce for the goose is sauce for the gander. If the theist really believed that we should not make positive (or negative) assertions about the universe until we have more than 1% of knowledge, then they also cannot make the positive assertion there is a God. If it is possible within the other 99% there is a God, it is equally possible there is not a God.

Why stop there? It is equally possible there are more than one gods, and more than one universe. In fact, with our limited capability, we should refrain from making any claims about anything, until we know more. Clearly, the theist does not hold to this proposition for their own position, why, then, impose it on others?

Look at what we do know Within our little 1%, we know that the Easter Bunny is made up by humans. Doesn’t exist. We know that Santa Clause is made up. Doesn’t exist. We know that severed arms do not re-attach and, with the wave of a wand and a few magic words, start functioning normally.

With what we do know, we can make assertive statements, regardless what the other 99% consists of. If there is a supernova exploding on the other side of the universe, does it make a difference whether it is going blue or red, as to whether there is a god? Nope. Since that is part of the 99% I don’t know, it does not provide any new information as to God’s existence, so who cares if we don’t know it?

Or, look at it this way. I am sure I know less than 1% of American History. When we look at all the facts of all the things that have happened in America over the last 400 years, I am certain I know less than 1% of 1%! Yet even with this miniscule knowledge, I am aware that Daffy Duck was never President of the United States. Can we say, “A-ha! You don’t know 99% of American History, therefore you cannot know this?” Of course not. The minute amount I do know lists the Presidents that have been elected, and Daffy Duck is not one of them.

What is interesting is that the theist will often point out what they don’t know, and therefore claim they do know there is a god. This hardly makes sense. “Within the 99% of what we don’t know is how, exactly life formed on earth, whether there is life elsewhere, what existed prior to the Big Bang, how much dark matter there, and therefore within the 1% of what I do know, I will claim there is a god. One we don’t know 99% about.”

If the theist is able, within ,their 1% of knowledge declare there is a god, why am I prohibited from using the same knowledge and saying there is not? Why must I have to wait for the other 99%, and they do not?

Further, the “limitation” of human knowledge is what we have to work with. Even if there was a supernatural being, the only way that we as humans can know it, is by our own knowledge—i.e. human. This presumes there is something “other” than human knowledge, which is a bit silly, considering the only way to discuss it, or even conceive of it, is by discussing with other humans, and interacting with their knowledge.

Guess what? Every single thing we know is confined within human knowledge. There isn’t anything beyond it. The instant one starts to talk about some knowledge “beyond it” it becomes part of human knowledge!

What happens when knowledge increases? We weren’t always at 1%, or whatever number one wants to put on it. We used to be less. As knowledge of the universe and the world about us has increased, we have modified what we can theorize and surmise about the other 99%. At one time, within our little amount, we did not know that light had a speed, acted as a wave and a particle, and can be moved by gravity. As we learn these new facts, we modify our information about what the other 99% looks like.

In fact, part of what little we know, is that Heisenberg Uncertainty principle, which states we cannot state at a moment in time, the exact nature of the universe. The more certain we are as to the direction of a moving particle, the less certain the speed, and vice versa. We can never know 100%, by the very limitations as to how we can observe the universe.

While our little bits of knowledge increase, we are able to modify and reduce the possibilities of what the other 99% is like. Is theism equally willing to change?

Upon learning through textual and higher criticism that the works of the Bible were not accurately copied and recorded, is theism willing to modify its belief regarding canonization and inerrancy. Upon learning that the earth is billions of years old, and was not made in spurts and spats, is theism willing to embrace evolution?

See, within the naturalist 1% of knowledge is the ability and recognition to modify its understanding of the other 99%. If a person began to regularly perform miracles, won the Randi challenge, and exhibited unexplained supernatural phenomena, every naturalist I know would be willing to abandon their 1% naturalistic ideal, and study the new, supernatural concept. But a theist, with their 1% of knowledge, only rarely will view facts and reason, and modify their beliefs, to the point of becoming a naturalist.

Theism fails to provide for any ability to modify its belief.

Faith So is each claim, “no god” vs “a god” a matter of faith? That somewhere out there in the other 99%, whatever a person happens to believe, may be confirmed, but in the meantime both parties are relying upon unsubstantiated assertions?

Here is the problem with that. Other than pantheists, the theist has made a non-faith based determination. They have eliminated, as possibilities, other deities as even remotely being possible in the other 99%. In the same way that a theist says, “Isn’t it possible there is a god, because of what you don’t know?” I could say, “Isn’t it possible there is a different god than the one you subscribe to, because of what you don’t know?”

Within this small scope of knowledge, the theist uses reason to eliminate all other god(s) except the one they hold onto. Can they do that, and yet claim I cannot, because of the vast unknown? What they are saying is two contradictory statements: “Within the 1% that we know, we do know that this god, and that god, and those gods, and these gods cannot possibly exist. You, the atheist, cannot say that god’s don’t possibly exist.” Yes, I can. I apply the same method the theist does to their god, with the same limitation of knowledge, and poof—there is no proof.

“We don’t know” does not equal the possibility of a God.

Eeny Meeny Miny Mo

I have been informed (more than once) that once my death is upon me, I will revert back the Christianity. I have thought on this…

Of course it is impossible to actually place oneself in this situation, unless you really have lived it. I have not. I do not know what my emotions will be like, my reasoning, my thought process, upon learning that I will die. I could certainly see how, at that moment, an afterlife would be very attractive.

As best I can, I imagined the cliché of “The doctor informs you, that you only have two months to live.” What would I do? What would I think? Who I turn back to Christianity, in the hopes of a perpetuality? In the hopes of seeing those I love again?

Frankly, my first thought would be, “I better get this right, since I only have a short time to figure it out!” It would be tempting to pick the religion that has the best heaven. One that I would enjoy, and would hope those about me enjoyed as well. In a selfish fit, it would be really tempting to pick the one with the worst hell. This way I could be certain that, even if wrong, I was not in the worst possible hell there is. I could breathe a sigh of relief, knowing somewhere out there is a worse hell.

But I would think what most would compel me is to pick the “right” one. Again, I don’t have a lot of time to do this, really only have one shot at it. Need to take the best possible shot there is at it.

I was born into Christianity. It was “correct” because it claimed to be correct, and it claimed to be exclusive, therefore by definition, all of the other religions are “incorrect.” Easy as pie. Now, outside Christianity, I see that it claims to be right and exclusive, but a variety of other theistic beliefs also claim to be right and exclusive. In fact, MOST theistic beliefs, by virtue of their defined god(s) exclude the possibilities of other god(s), and therefore cannot both be correct. One cannot hold to a deistic, impersonal god, and an interactive personal god at the same time. They exclude each other.

Being outside of any religion, I have to pick them on their merits alone. Just because I am told, “Over here! Over here! Pick me, and I will exclude the others” doesn’t help me one bit, because to the left of that religion is another, shouting, “No, pick ME!” and to the left of that religion, another shouting, “No, I am right!” and another and another. Guess what? You all claim to have the “in” on God, and the others are on the “out.” I don’t have time for that nonsense—I only have two months to get it right.

Now I only have time to look at the merits of the viability (there’s that word again!) of each religion as it stands or falls on its own. Christianity would be out. I know too much. I have studied too far to convince myself in the facts of that religion. And if I couldn’t convince myself, there is no way I could convince a God. In fact, having studied the basis of Christianity, all of the Abrahamic God(s) would get the boot. That God surely does not exist. No time can be wasted there.

But what about reincarnation? Hinduism? Taoism? Some African religion I haven’t even discovered yet? I don’t have the time to start investigating each and every one. And, from my philosophical study, and study of evolution, and study of how humans are so good at creating god(s), I would be skeptical of almost every theism there is.

I might see a selling point of a deistic force that started the universe in a mistaken belch, and has long since forgotten its faux pas. But what good does it do me to start believing that for the last two months of my life? I haven’t believed it before and there is no after-life there!

The safest bet, would be continuing to be convinced by the evidence I have before me, that there is no God, and continuing to exist in that manner. It’s like finding out that I only have 10 minutes to complete a test. No sense wasting it going over the answers I had written previously. Just because I thought I had 2 hours, and now I only have 10 minutes doesn’t mean to change the previous answers.

No, I don’t see me reverting back to Christianity, simply because time becomes more limited. Religions need to learn to rise or fall on their own, not just to “hedge a bet.”