About amanda

Amanda is a pie-baking, music-listening, lindy-hopping, yoga-doing, power-tool-wielding feminist, atheist, and wife. She divides her time equally between cooking delicious things, trying to make nice with the house cat, and ranting about religion.

Authoritarian Parenting, No True Scotsman, and Really Bad Poetry

May 20, 2012 By amanda 27 Comments

I’d wager that most readers at the Friendly Atheist are at least familiar with the “No True Scotsman” fallacy if they haven’t been on the receiving end of the argument at some point. The idea is that when someone doesn’t fit your stereotype of a particular group, instead of reassessing the stereotype, you just assume that person doesn’t actually belong in the group (“You’re an atheist who votes Republican?! You must not be a real atheist!”)

I bring that up because when people find out I’m an atheist, they often assume I was never a “real” Christian to begin with. They believe that all True Christians would never leave the faith. But lately I’ve found myself agreeing with them… Maybe I never really was a Christian. Maybe I really was missing something. Maybe they’re right.

On some level, my previously held beliefs are impossible to remember with absolute certainty, simply because there is no evidence beyond imperfectly-kept memories and various physical relics. And that’s ok, because I don’t really need a time machine and a Belief-o-Meter to make informed statements about past belief; my teenaged self was gracious enough to leave a paper trail of melodramatic, ham-fisted poetry, some of which are actually really interesting glimpses into a religious mindset that I no longer occupy.

Via the inimitable Drew at toothpastefordinner.com

In my mind, my de-conversion to atheism was just the slow, forward, glacial march of my intellectual curiosity leading me to increasingly difficult questions, but the catalyst for that doubt was really interesting: the commonly-used double-edged sword of authoritarian parenting.

I wasn’t even familiar with the term until I started reading Libby Anne’s excellent blog after I was already an atheist. Her insights into the Quiverfull movement were fascinating, especially since one of my closest friends growing up was raised in an eerily similar home environment. It was like a peek into the lives of the homeschooled families that always existed on the social perimeter of my soccer team, youth group, and 4-H club. But, even more horrifying, I slowly began to realize that it resembled my own upbringing, too. Both were based on the same belief system and executed with the same religious motivations. It wasn’t as quite as conspicuous as, say, the Duggars, but the parallels are creepy, and the unintended consequences are enormous.

Growing up, church attendance was mandatory at least twice a week (sometimes two services on Sunday and Wednesday night youth group). The intended consequence, of course, was for me to be steadfast in my faith and grow in my “walk with the Lord” (still not sure if that is actually in the Bible or just that obnoxious, pithy “Footprints” poem that every Christian household has hanging in their bathroom), but they went about it all wrong. The church suppressed dissent and encouraged conformity; even the kind of Christian music I listened to at the time wasn’t “godly” enough. We were encouraged to leave our doubts “at Jesus’ feet,” specifically discouraging doubts about the Bible. Instead of acting like the Jesus I kept being told about, the members of the youth group were cut from the same cruel, adolescent cloth as the other kids in my high school.

I considered myself a believer as a teen, but between the anti-intellectual church culture and the strict behavioral limitations at home, my doubts and curiosities had nowhere to go except to escape through cheap poetic metaphors. No one in a position of authority would take my questions seriously, or even allow me to ask them… but in poems, I could write whatever I wanted. Specificity was to be avoided at all cost (resulting in a groan-worthy amount of abstractions and clichés) because specificity meant risking someone finding out. Which meant inevitable punishment. So, even though I had moral and intellectual qualms about my professed beliefs, and serious doubts about serious parts of it, I had to maintain a Christian identity where I wore modest Christian clothing and only listened to Christian music and only hung out with other Christians and only participated in social events that both the church and my parents approved of.

Without further ado, here is one product of the intellectual binds I found myself in, grammar and spelling errors included:

I can't believe the whole world can see this...

Ignorance and Apathy

Lately myself’s the only one
That I can stand to hate
This vapor taking far to long
Jesus, I’m ready to come home
Thus making the forward assumption
Of something past the now
The bloody tedium of rut routine
Relinquish it? Not for the world
Squint past the skies
To see where I am headed
This ignorance
This apathy
These obstacles I fail
To even stumble over
What am I?
But easily
Bruised
Broken
Corruptible
Flesh
Blood
I am nothing but human
and thats what’s killing me.

Ironically, it was the very fact of being subjected to constant, unflinching indoctrination that made me skeptical and suspicious of religion. I slowly realized that we didn’t study the Bible like I studied any other book; many non-denominational Christian churches focus more on the power of personal revelation, so sermons are issued microscopically instead of telescopically. Churchgoers were encouraged to read verses “for themselves,” and a typical devotional was structured to include just a handful of verses and lots of space for personal interpretation. I was keenly aware that I didn’t know anything about the Bible at all -– who wrote it, when, what the writers meant in a historical context, nothing. I couldn’t explain why there were so many different denominations, or where they came from, or why exactly my church taught that Catholics weren’t “really” Christians. I couldn’t figure out why, if everything in the Bible was true and factual, it included tales of talking snakes and donkeys and global floods and miracles and lots and lots of smiting. It didn’t seem like a very trustworthy book, and some of the moral components were confused, at best, but a quick coat of “faith” and “patience” buried these concerns quickly, even if none of the concerns were actually addressed.

Instead, I agonized internally, and the poems I wrote thematically reflected my despair over my lack of knowledge and my perceived inability to “get it.” There are scads more examples of poetry just like this, long-forgotten in a dusty accordion file, and they all abstractly talk about my struggle to self-define in a culture that gave me a very narrow range of expression, and all of them make me rather sad.

Sad because I was never allowed to be uncomfortable in my own skin; instead, I was de facto required to assume an identity that I didn’t want. Being a teenager is already hard, and it’s made all the more difficult by limiting a child to certain identities or beliefs and explicitly disallowing certain kinds of expression or questioning. I’m sad that I was required, in essence, to live a lie. (Of all the people who can understand that concept, it would be the atheists who are forced to remain closeted for any number of reasons.)

If there’s any lesson in this, it may be a cautionary tale about the influence of mainstream Christian churches that, from the outside, don’t look nearly as cult-like as the Quiverfull movement or as outrageous as Mark Driscoll‘s Mars Hill. It may serve as a good reminder as to why we need to be out and visible, if possible. It’s why we need to support organizations like the Secular Student Alliance, who are paving the way for much-needed community and public discourse in secondary education settings.

I may have since shortened the “really bad amateur poet” part of my identity to “amateur poet,” but the desire for critical examination and creative expression that my oppressive religious upbringing started will stick with me for the rest of my life. I’m a much better poet, thinker, and reader as an atheist than I ever was as a Christian. Most importantly, I am finally myself, and no person or ideology or institution will ever take that away from me.

Never again.

Filed Under: General 27 Comments

Cautiously Pessimistic: Greta Christina’s Interview with Edwina Rogers

May 8, 2012 By amanda 67 Comments

Edwina Rogers’ appointment as the Executive Director of the Secular Coalition for America has had the atheist blogging community in a tizzy ever since Hemant posted his interview last week. Now Greta Christina has jumped in with an audio interview (MP3) that validates many readers’ suspicions. (Additionally, a transcript of the interview is available here.)

To be clear, the issue here is not about Rogers personality or intellect or even her prior involvement in the Republican party; it’s that the cumulative effect of all of those things has not been addressed in any reassuring way by Rogers. Personally, I wouldn’t be opposed to a leader who had different values from myself, past or present, so long as questions about those values were made clear and we had some initial, important common ground.

Troublingly, Rogers demonstrated a pretty stunning inability to communicate her motivations even for joining the Republican Party in the first place. Here’s the relevant portion of the interview (emphasis mine):

Greta Christina: The question that people are asking is, why support that party? And why put years of your life and work into supporting that party, rather than supporting a party that supports you on the issues?

Edwina Rogers: Well, I was a Democrat, because I was born and raised in Alabama. At one point, in the 80’s, when Reagan came through, the majority of Alabama switched and became Republicans because the idea of working hard, and getting ahead, and pulling yourself up by the bootstraps really resonated with people in Alabama. And I am a Republican. I’m a conservative Republican, and I definitely don’t have any plans to change parties, and I don’t think that the Secular Coalition for America would be as interested in me if I was another person who was closely affiliated with the Democratic Party. They’ve got that covered. They’ve got that covered very well. So the plan is not for me to try to go and… operate in a party that I have not been. The plan is for me to try to work with Republicans and also with Democrats, and build common ground.

Now the coalitions I’ve worked with in the past, they were bipartisan, and this one actually is bipartisan. And you know, that’s what the leadership thinks, that’s what the leadership wants, and they had no problem with the fact that I happen to be a Republican, and we’ve been over my personal position. But for people to think that there are people with in the Republican party that are the opposition and they have opinions that are different from my opinion and that that is somehow my fault. I totally disagree with that. Because I don’t think that it is. I think I’m just going to go out and do what it takes to win over any groups and as many decision makers as possible to the movement, and make them allies, and I’m not planning on sitting here and writing everybody up. I’m going to go and work hard and educate and persuade and have the best advocacy positions that we have hand have the best written materials and be tenacious and get our foot in the door and get a seat at the table and move beyond our traditional reach, is what I’m planning on doing.

Rogers can’t seem to understand the conflict between her personal political opinions and the goals of the secular movement, which Greta Christina attempted to clarify over and over again in the interview, nor can she even coherently explain her own dedication to the party beyond “Reagan was persuasive.” There are plenty of arguments, particularly economic arguments, that a person might make to justify belonging to a more conservative party despite supporting more progressive policies elsewhere, but I’m sure I’m not alone in thinking that the popularity one gets during a presidential campaign does not constitute a strong argument.

Furthermore, Rogers seems to believe, out of ignorance or design, that Republicans support secular values despite decades of actual policy that contradict her. A common thread throughout the interview was Rogers responding to questions by questioning and warning against “stereotyping,” though she had no evidence to support her claims beyond her “years of insider experience.”

Fundamentally, Ms. Rogers needs to understand that the population she is representing does not see her years of experience with and commitment to the Republican Party as an asset unless she has strong evidence for doing so. She demonstrated a clear lack of understanding about the evolution of conservative politics over the last thirty years, and, more troubling, that her own personal experience somehow trumps data and evidence (another common thread in the interview was the general setup of “well, I don’t know…but my experience is the opposite…” to answer questions).

Moreover, the bumbling answers and rhetorical circus in the interview demonstrated not only an individual quite separated from the priorities of the secular and atheist movement, but also someone who doesn’t care about reality.

Quite simply, I cannot trust someone who believes that the Republican Party is just as pro-choice as it is pro-life. Or just as pro-gay marriage as anti-gay marriage. Or just as concerned about separation of church and state as it is about injecting church into state. Democrat, Republican, or the Party of Polka Dotted Sock Enthusiasts — I don’t particularly care, so long as we both value policy made for and driven by objective reality-minded individuals.

Edwina Rogers has certainly not inspired that confidence in me. Nor am I confident in her ability to accurately represent me or other atheists when it comes to the issues we care about. Either I have a lot of surprises coming my way from the Secular Coalition for America, or they have made a colossal misstep. I’m cautiously pessimistic; I won’t write Ms. Rogers off completely, but if she wants to win over the godless crowd, she needs to drop her spade, quit shoveling, and familiarize herself with the people she is being paid to represent.

Filed Under: General, Politics, Secular Coalition for America 67 Comments

Atheism Doesn’t Merit An Intervention

May 7, 2012 By amanda 58 Comments

I am in the middle of a riotous love affair with the television show Intervention. The affair happened quickly, mostly out of boredom and, out of the chronically bizarre array of options on Netflix streaming, it received a resounding “whatever… good enough” before hitting the “play” button. Reality shows are not usually my cup of tea, and I had my reservations about a reality series’ ability to not sensationalize an already difficult and too-often misunderstood reality of addiction, but I found myself unable to tear away from the absolutely absorbing human-ness of the stories.

What is both fascinating and eerie is the familiarity of the show — the casual nature of the camera operators, the mundane appearance of some of the participants. It could be anyone — a cousin, an old school teacher, a politician. It could be you. While I’m as much a fan of fluffy entertainment as the next, and have more than my fair share of guilty pleasures, I appreciate the questions that the show raises; perhaps, maybe, just a little, it’s made me a tiny bit more empathetic to struggles we demonize and attempt to make invisible.

Although I devoured several seasons of Intervention, I never considered that I might one day be the recipient of just such a conversation.

It’s not because I have any addictions. Not for methamphetamine or cocaine or alcohol or speed or marijuana or shopping or lying. Not for disorders like bulimia or anorexia or depression. Not for behavioral tendencies like violence or rage or deceit.

But I am an atheist, and a relatively recently-minted one at that. And for Christian households with a certain kind of doctrinal belief, an atheist child is crisis on the order of addiction — with imminent, dire consequences. And, unfortunately, you can’t get much more conspicuous than contributing to a public, self-identified atheist website. Really, I ought to have seen it coming.

All told, my personal “intervention” wasn’t nearly as emotionally wrought as many shown in said television show. There weren’t cameras or lights or sound techs. There wasn’t an “intervention specialist” or trained psychologist present. There was no threat of 90-day rehabilitation programs for my atheist-writing-addiction.

But there were some uncanny parallels. Because my family assumed I would only visit them under false pretenses, I was deliberately lied to, and despite a tight budget and precious little free time, my husband and I made the 3-hour long trip to meet with my folks at their request. I was bullied and bribed in an attempt to force me to stop writing publicly, and was so dumbfounded at the offer of “double what you make with the website” to stop writing that I couldn’t muster a cogent response. I was shamed and told I was being “disrespectful”; specifically, that it was particularly embarrassing for close Christian friends to discover my writing. I asked what some sort of compromise could be reached, where I could respect my folks’ beliefs while still doing what I want to do, and was shocked to confront glazed-over stares. Compromise was never even a possibility; it was a simple “you will stop doing X if you really respect my authority/beliefs/personal history/so on”.

When I inquired about the nature of the offense –- the specifics that had led to the need for an intervention in the first place –- I was met with dead air. The only offensive thing that had transpired was being an atheist in a very public forum, nothing more. I have encountered some tension and negativity at my newly-found godless identity (as well as many displays of grace, kindness, and good-natured curiosity), but the main issue is that PDAs (Public Displays of Atheism) are big no-nos. It’s improper to “fall away” from the church; it’s downright impudent to talk about it.

While it was painful to sit through that conversation in the first place, it was made even worse by the fact that it was from people very close to me, people whom I love very much. In most circumstances, a social sneak attack is pretty unorthodox; interventions frequently make the victims feel attacked, their trust violated, which is why interventions are reserved as last-ditch efforts in desperate situations. Most parents, I would think, would reserve interventions for their just-shy-of-a-quarter-century-old adult child for life-and-death situations, and not as a matter of course. Religious people, however, are willing to make exceptions.

There are lots of things that can potentially mess up priorities in family and friendships, but all too often religion rears its ugly head. Valuing human autonomy, intelligence, and communication gets utterly thrown out the window when someone’s eternal soul is on the line. That causes Christians to do very funny things sometimes, like stage interventions for totally-not-intervention-worthy causes instead of having an ongoing conversation. Or to preach and proselytize without the invitation to do so. Or disown or shun their own children if they don’t have “enough” of or the “right kind” of faith.

All of those activities carry a certain risk when it comes to social and interpersonal contexts; many of them require you to forego any kind of mutual respect that you might otherwise have had. All of them require that you make religious belief a higher priority than the relationships between human beings.

To my folks, I have an Amy Winehouse song with your name on it. I appreciate your (albeit confused) concern and good intentions, but know that the days of you being able to dictate what I can and cannot do without any regard for my own wishes is quite over. I mourned for a while and shed more than a few tears into more than a few pillows in frustration and anger. Now that the tear are gone, frustration and anger are fueling me.

You have no right to demand that your concern over image issues trumps my desires and talents. You have no right to unilaterally control what I do with my life based on unsubstantiated claims and perceived insult. You have no right to insist that I continue to respect you without reciprocating. You have no right to think that your religion ought to trump our relationship.

For my part, I will continue writing for this site in the foreseeable future, now that I have dragged myself out of the disappointment and lack of inspiration resulting from the intervention. I want people to hear my story, if they want, and I want to offer a measure of comfort and community to a few people who may be experiencing similar things. I will try to be as courteous as possible, but your beliefs will no longer operate as a protective shield that I am not allowed to cross. I will not pretend that Christianity stops good people from doing bad things, and sometimes things in which you participate.

I may not have needed it, but your intervention has made me a stronger person, more principled, more self-assured, and not a whit more religious. In that sense, I thank you for reminding me how naked the Emperor really is.

 

Filed Under: General 58 Comments

Weapons-Grade Bigotry from My Alma Mater

April 5, 2012 By amanda 16 Comments

When I attended Purdue University, I did my best to avoid The Exponent, the student newspaper. The reporting seemed (more than) a little lacking, the articles were frequently riddled with spelling and grammar errors, and I always tended to be more interested in U.S. politics and world affairs than the latest updates on the ice cream socials hosted by the student organizations. If I did read it, I would immediately flip through to the Letters-to-the-Editor section, which seemed to always attract the, erm, more colorful sections of the student body.

Jen McCreight over at Blag Hag understands. Here’s the latest gem:

Resident provides suggestion for LGBT youth

Dear Editor,

Many of us are getting a bit tired of hearing about the demands of Purdue’s so-called gay and lesbian community. I suspect that many of those most vocal are probably out-of-state students. I have to ask why did they apply to Purdue in the first place, if all they are going to do is complain about it? These petulant children have ‘gay friendly’ schools in their home states, and the Hoosier troublemakers (if any) should have applied to Bloomington. As a Christian, I hate the sin, but love the sinner. I see no reason to destroy these people, but they should not be working to destroy our Boilermaker values either. So the best solution for all concerned is for Purdue to set up some kind of Director of Gay and Lesbian Issues on campus, someone well versed in transferring academic credits and the application process, so these young people can be directed to better pursue their values and ‘interests’ unhindered in more accepting institutions, and traditional Boilermakers who love Purdue and are happy with it as it is can better pursue our own values and interests as well.

Boiler Up!

Harlan VanderMeer, West Lafayette resident

It’s very possible that the writer is a Poe, and I know that editors frequently choose the most inflammatory or controversial letters for publishing, but I also realize that there will be a decent chunk of the readership that agrees with him. While the university exists in a more liberal bubble, the surrounding community is predominantly conservative Christian. Around campus, it’s very, very common to see Christian preachers proselytizing in the common areas during warmer months — sometimes even the students themselves take on the role of street preacher.

For those who might be in agreement with Mr. VanderMeer, I’d like to offer my own letter in response:

Mr. VanderMeer,

Unfortunately, since you have chosen to attend a public university, your opinion on what sort of person should attend is beside the point, and the fact that you would put your personal preferences regarding your college’s culture over the right of a specific minority to attend in the first place says much more about your version of “love” than the empty lip-service you pay when you appeal to your religion. Had you bothered to consult any of the “so-called” GBLT individuals your letter was directed to, you may be surprised to find that many come from the Hoosier state, and many are quite principled individuals, just like you and me. You mention “Boilermaker values” as if your values are represented by the rest of the student body, but Purdue’s Statement of Integrity contradicts the principles you espouse. Here’s an excerpt (emphasis mine):

We champion freedom of expression. To ensure our integrity, we safeguard academic freedom, open inquiry, and debate in the best interests of education, enrichment, and our personal and professional development. We embrace human and intellectual diversity and inclusiveness. We uphold the highest standards of fairness, act as responsible citizens, respect equality and the rights of others, and treat all individuals with dignity.

You generously state in your letter that you don’t want to “destroy these people.” Is this all of the love and compassion, Christian or otherwise, that you can muster? Can you not see that your attitude, beyond failing to meet the ethical standards put forward by the university, is also abysmally lacking as a human being? At the very least, forego the hypocritical language of claiming to “love” the group of people that you would like to banish.

Mr. VanderMeer, it is solidly within your power to help solve some of the problems in the LGBTQ community that annoy you so much to hear about. A good first step would be to shed some of that bigotry that you’re wearing (not a good look for anybody). Following that, a good second step would be to introduce yourself to the community with an open mind, as you may find that they are less likely to “whine” about allies instead of enemies.

Signed,

A Fellow Boilermaker

Filed Under: Education, General, GLBT 16 Comments

Why Women Vote for Rick Santorum

March 24, 2012 By amanda 26 Comments

As I was reading Hemant’s post linking to Rachel Held Evans’ blog, I couldn’t help but feel struck by the similarities in my own experience of backing slowly away from organized religion over the past few years. I, too, felt keenly aware of the exclusivity of the club and the fickle nature of its champions; however, my criticisms of the church eventually led me to reject its foundational beliefs and not just its physical manifestation.

When I look back on my seemingly slow and drudging deconversion from Christianity, one of the most important, pivotal elements in my ability to continue questioning faith and religion was that I wasn’t deeply embedded in church culture. At that point in my life, I had already become agitated with the church I had been raised in, which led to more frustration when I could not find a church that felt “safe” enough to ask my questions. In college, my social circles consisted of my classmates, coworkers from part-time jobs, participants in extra-curricular activities, so on and so forth… but no one from a Bible study. Because I didn’t have a church structure I was attached to, it was much easier to serve Christianity the divorce papers.

However, most of my church-going peers wouldn’t have had that luxury of such freedom. Christianity is a very caring institution (or smothering, if that’s how you feel about being on the receiving end of that care) -– in the sense that it provides community throughout a person’s life. From cradle to grave, there are Nice People who are willing to tell you how much you need Jesus in your life and the fellowship of other believers at every opportunity. Children’s programs feed into youth programs that feed into college groups that urge you to “find a church of your own” upon graduating, settling down, and entering the real world. Once you’ve “found” your church, you’re there! Set for life!

Of course, it’s not a bad thing that churches exist and function as social networks, in and of itself. I think where Rachel and I agree would be that the problem with big “C” church is that it requires obedience to their social requirements at the exclusion of all other possibilities. In many strains of Christianity, the relationship that believers have to non-believers must be fundamentally different. In the church I grew up in, we were taught that believers must be “in the world but not of the world,” derived from Romans 12:2 (NIV):

“Do not conform to the pattern of this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind. Then you will be able to test and approve what God’s will is — his good, pleasing and perfect will.”

There are a variety of interpretations of this passage, but the important takeaway is that this popular concept establishes two things in Christian culture: a feeling of separation or distinction from mainstream society, and an important reward for achieving that distinction. The way that churches incorporate this idea into their dogma spans the spectrum to isolated faith communities like the Amish (who set themselves geographically apart) to the liberal Christian idea that salvation “renews” your mind or heart (where the distinction lies in the “condition of the heart” rather than external displays). The point, regardless, is that the concept requires a belief that there is something special about Christianity, both as an identity and as a lifestyle.

We hear stories all of the time of the immense pain and suffering that people go through when they voice disagreement with their church or with Christianity at large, but I would ask that you consider the powerful force at work on the other side: the individuals who stay in the Church. For all its power to hurt individuals on the outside, how much can it benefit those on the inside?

I’ve been musing about this concept while watching Rick Santorum’s ascendance in the GOP race (and Romney’s quick uptick in hardline, right-wing rhetoric), especially with the increased emphasis on moral issues like abortion, contraception, and women’s health care. Why, oh why, I lamented, were women voting for this guy? Can’t they see that his decisions would make the U.S. a worse place for women to live?

In short: no, they can’t.

A commenter on John Cassidy’s blog at the New Yorker had this to say (emphasis mine):

About women supporting Santorum: I too find this baffling, and can only attribute it to some form of Stockholm Syndrome. As someone who grew up among born-again and evangelical Christians in Appalachia, I would hypothesize that women who have accommodated themselves to living an evangelical lifestyle have nothing to gain from questioning the premises of Christian patriarchy. Their lives are more comfortable, less fraught with domestic conflict, if they simply decide to be happy and make the most of their assigned roles. Although to a feminist the trajectory of their lives seems constrained, on a day-to-day basis evangelical women feel productive and empowered by playing a dynamic role in their churches and schools, from which they derive a potent sense of community. Nor are they necessarily barred from having a job. They have avenues for self-expression such as crafts, baking, or book clubs. (If your first reaction is to disdain these, then unless you’re a professional artist you probably have too high an opinion of your own creative outlets.) In fact, when I recall the women I grew up under, they didn’t think men were superior at all; they took the patronizing attitude that men were to be indulged in their masculine delusions. It would be elitist/snobby/condescending/wrong to view such women as passive or merely subservient. How many of us want to challenge the social constructs within which we have created active lives that are reckoned as meaningful? At any rate, this is my best effort to make sense of the women’s vote, which is otherwise unfathomable and preposterous to me.

—CWolfe

This, to me, is where things get really interesting. Women are voting for Santorum because he supports ideologies that protect their interests, even though it appears, on the outside, to work against them. Protecting and encouraging “Biblical” marriage and family life secures freedoms for women who have found legitimately fulfilling and rewarding niches within their faith communities. As much as Rachel and I have found to criticize about religion, these women have not; they have invested time, energy, and money into a faith that rewards them.

While I can’t understand how it’s possible to refuse to contend with some of the intellectual difficulties in the doctrine of Christianity, I can certainly understand the reluctance to give up that culture. In many cases, churches provide friendships, networking opportunities, creative outlets, emergency relief, moral guidelines, and structured authority that no one place has outside of it. The fact that Christianity tends to bundle their services makes it very easy for them to also monopolize those services.

When an individual’s entire identity, relationships, social activities, and beliefs center around a single place, it’s much harder to leave, and you have much more at stake if you do.

As I and other bloggers and writers around the web have continued to cast a watchful gaze at Mark Driscoll‘s Mars Hill Church, I’ve noticed a recurring theme that commenters have raised: that church attendees are there by choice, that their presence is completely voluntary.

Well, yes, you’re right, technically. If you subtract the social pressure exerted on them to continue attending church where they have the opportunity to socialize with their friends and authority figures that will constantly reinforce their beliefs and reward them for believing.

When Hemant talked about religion having the market cornered on empathy, I think he is on to something. It’s not that this criticism is limited only to atheists, nor do I think that all atheists are guilty of it, but it’s a somewhat troubling trend that illustrates a broader undercurrent in our movement: to discredit believers for their gullible natures, or their stupidity, or for their lack of commitment to the truth. This, I think, is a trend that needs to stop, as it gives atheists the same holier-than-thou distinction that we object to in Christian culture, and it falsely takes the teeth from the most powerful weapons that Christianity exercises: peer pressure and isolation from dissent.

When we fail or refuse to acknowledge the power that these elements have, we misunderstand the breadth and scope of the church, and we fail to empathize with the reasons that people sit through misogynistic sermons or vote for Rick Santorum. Instead of saying “I understand,” some of us are saying “you’re stupid”.

There are lots of people in this world and there are a lot of people who do mind-boggling amounts of stupid things every day (myself enthusiastically included). If we want to win the debate against religion, I think we owe it to ourselves and to the future of the atheist movement that we do it cleanly, thoroughly, with a commitment to the facts and a rejection of the need to stereotype others falsely.

Filed Under: General, Politics 26 Comments

Mars Hill Church Responds to Criticisms

March 8, 2012 By amanda 31 Comments

Man, it’s been a good week for notpologists; in addition to Rush Limbaugh’s failed attempt at sincerity regarding his comments about Sandra Fluke and the non-committal response from all of the Republican candidates, Mars Hill has generously notpologized to the growing group of individuals that have come forward citing emotional abuse from the church and its leadership.

A formal statement was issued on Mars Hill’s official website, following a news segment from KOMO, Seattle’s local news station. Here are the most delightful bits:

“Rather than try and defend ourselves or refute misinformation, we simply wish to say that as a church, we’re saddened by this continual attempt to drag into public very private and sensitive issues that were church matters. As with any story that has two sides, the natural tendency is for people to lean toward their prejudices. If they don’t like Mars Hill, these stories will serve to cement their beliefs regardless of what we say. For those who are part of Mars Hill and love the church, there is a tendency to take the defensive.”

By “very private and sensitive issues,” I’m sure they are referring to their procedure of publicly calling for the outright ostracism of church members who choose not to endure their invasive and shaming “discipline” procedures… right? “Private” usually refers to events that take place between a very small group of people. Sending documents to a community group of 15 or more via the internet is not private.

“Here’s the bottom line: we love people. Our goal is always repentance and reconciliation in the discipline process and that the process would be loving, grace-filled, and reflect the heart of Jesus. We don’t always get it right. But, in this instance we ask that you would pray for your leaders, love your city, and wait until we all stand before Jesus to get the facts and a clear verdict.”

No, your bottom line is that you love to tell people that you love them. Undoubtedly, Mars Hill does a great deal of good in terms of mobilizing people and money in times of natural disaster and crisis — with 14 church locations and 19,000 members, they have both the ability and resources to do so. But let us be clear; shaming your own church members by publicly excoriating them and shunning them if they refuse to follow your highly specific discipline procedure is not love. It’s cruelty.

Second, if you believe that your congregation and community members should wait to be judged by Jesus instead of passing judgment… why go to such great lengths — in this lifetime — to prescribe how people should live? According to Pastor Mark Driscoll, Jesus has an opinion on anal and oral sex. He’s also given Driscoll the gift of “divine revelation,” which Driscoll uses to ascertain the specific nature of his congregation’s sexual sin and deviancy. Pornography is fine, so long as it occurs within the vivid imagination of Mark Driscoll.

The letter concludes in this way:

“Our desire is for reconciliation between us and you. This won’t mean we’ll always see eye to eye, but can and should talk face to face in a spirit of humility and grace. Please fill out this brief form so we can begin this process.”

If by “between us and you,” they meant “us and you and many members of our congregations and your close church friends”, then I believe you. But to be honest, given the track record that Mars Hill has for keeping church issues between the offending party and the church leadership, the impersonal delivery of such a call via the Internet rings hollow.

Please login to our Reconciliation Portal. A qualified Reconciliation Specialist will be with you shortly.

And I’m not the only one who feels this way. One ex-Mars Hill member wrote this statement on a blog called Mars Hill Refuge (emphasis mine):

“The statement seemed to blur the lines and imply that all of the people speaking out against Mars Hill were under church discipline and are taking those matters public.  To clarify, this is the exception and not the rule, as in our case and most others that have been shared here, we were not, in fact, under church discipline.  And since, in this post as well as the last two responses PR issued, they continue to stand by their stance on church discipline, one which I do not now or will I ever agree with, I am unable to be reconciled in the way that they wish to reconcile me.

…

What the Mars Hill pastors fail to realize is that those of us that have told our stories about our negative experiences at Mars Hill would attribute the abuses we experienced to our Community Group Leaders, Elders & Pastors.  We trusted them to treat us with love and grace then, and that is not what happened.  Why should we trust them to now? Forgiveness is not trusting someone who has hurt you.  And forgiveness is not neglecting justice for the oppressed.

I am not comfortable submitting my personal information on their form.  And I am not comfortable sitting down and meeting with Mars Hill elders on their terms.  I did not choose to subject myself to meetings with the CG leader when I left for the same reason I do not want to do it now.  It is not clear in their statement whether they are trying to get me to repent and be reconciled to Mars Hill, or if they wish to repent and be reconciled to me.”

It’s quite clear to me, from the recent attention and subsequent response from Mars Hill that it is significantly more important for the “reconciliation” to be a cleaner image to market to the masses. It doesn’t matter that individuals were actually hurt by their teaching or leadership; what matters is that those individuals approach Mars Hill in order to be reconciled to them.

Sounds like just the kind of forgiveness and grace that I’ve never been looking for.

Filed Under: General 31 Comments

Seeing the Invisible: Feminism and Atheism Intersect

February 24, 2012 By amanda 198 Comments

A few years back, I found myself surprised to discover that all of the problems of equity in the U.S. had been fixed, right under my nose. Somehow, this had happened despite the rather apparent issues of racial profiling, sex discrimination, and the growing socioeconomic gaps that I observed in my day-to-day life.

Not surprisingly, this assertion of already-established equality came from a group of white, middle-class 16-year-olds in a suburban school where I was guest teaching a lesson on Fahrenheit 451. We were discussing the obvious discrimination and suppression of the non-conforming individuals in the book and how and why this suppression worked, and then I asked them if they could think of any non-mainstream identities or lifestyles that were particularly discouraged or even actively suppressed by American culture.

Now, I should not have been surprised at the blank stares I received when I asked that question, nor should I have been surprised when the better part of the class emphatically insisted that “we were all equal” and that we “all had equal rights” and “everybody can do what they want,” but it did catch me momentarily off guard. (As uncomfortable as those moments are in the classroom, they are amazingly “teachable,” and often lead to the most interested and insightful discussions, if the teacher is willing and able to follow them.)

After a couple of failed attempts at different lines of discussion, I finally struck on a question that seemed to resonate and illustrated the problem with their assertion. I simply asked a boy in the front row if he would wear an outfit like mine — a tailored black dress, patterned black pantyhose, and black stilettos — to school, since everyone “can do what they want” without repercussion in an “equal” society. After all, a male wearing a dress shouldn’t cause any controversy, if we’re all “equal” regardless of who we are, what we wear, and what we choose to do in our lives. Right?

The proverbial light switch clicked on, and I could see the befuddlement in their faces. Here they had thought they had it all figured out, and with just a few questions I could see them turn the question over in their minds. Success! Not a horrible job in only forty minutes, as someone with, at the time, no professional experience in the classroom.

The interesting thing about that experience, for me, was the reminder of just how blind we can be to privilege, if we’re lucky enough to have it. Privilege is a funny thing — it’s invisible, colorless, and odorless when you have it, yet it is blatantly obvious when you lack it. My Brightest Diamond said it more concisely (and in a much more flamboyant outfit) in the lyrics to this song:

“When you’re privileged you don’t even know you’re privileged
When you’re not, you know”

The same is true for feminism; when I saw this now-iconic photo from last week’s Congressional Oversight Committee regarding religious institutions and exemptions for birth control coverage, my immediate reaction was “what a perfect, visual example of the patriarchy.”

It deeply unsettles me when I hear atheists, in person or online, deny the existence of the patriarchy or declare feminism “irrelevant” and “outdated.” There is a significant portion of the online atheist community that not only rejects feminism (cough*The Not-So-Amazing Atheist incident*cough), but actively disparages it. If the word “feminism” is so much as whispered on Pharyngula, the Horde is faced with a deluge of comments, some simply misinformed, some with arguably more vitriol and sexism. R/GodlessWomen spends half its time posting interesting things, some related directly to feminism, some not, and the other half fighting off unfriendly visitors.

Why?

Interestingly enough, I feel that “seeing” the need for feminism requires the same kind of eyes as “seeing” the need for atheism — it’s not a response to what actually exists, but rather what doesn’t. If there is one thing that atheists are really, really good at, it’s talking up the lack of the supernatural in the world. No miracles, no answered prayers, no divine intervention… no god. But the same logic doesn’t seem to apply to the lack of women in positions of economic or intellectual power, the lack of representation in government, the pay gap that still very much exists, and the increased risk of sexual violence that women face.

The patriarchy exists. It’s as plain as the nose on your face, the image of five older, celibate men speaking for the rights of all women leaping out from your monitor.

So why is the atheist and skeptical community, espousers of all things intellectual and rational, so hostile to feminism? In no way, shape, or form does feminism require a person to “only” focus on women’s issues, or hate or neglect men (although there have certainly been some proponents of feminism that have, merely proving that every group of people have their crazies), or to subscribe to a specific, militant lifestyle. Feminism, in its most stripped-down form, is simply the belief that women are and should be equal to men. Feminism is the understanding that we must advocate for women, as they occupy an underprivileged spot in the social strata, in order to achieve equity. How you go about doing that… well, that’s as diverse a possibility as how to live your life as an atheist.

In the U.S., it seems as though contraception is going to be on the table as a moral issue for the upcoming elections, as all of the GOP frontrunners have voiced their opposition in one way or another. These are “feminist” issues that are very, very real, that could have a potentially devastating effect on women’s lives, were they to be implemented.

So, how about it, atheists? We can see religious privilege, and we really, really like to point it out, but can’t we take a look a gender privilege as well? Let’s make nice, and put away our bra-burning strawfeminist, and work together to make feminism actually irrelevant.

Filed Under: General 198 Comments

I’m a Woman, Not a Sin

February 8, 2012 By amanda 75 Comments

Christianity has had a bit of a sexism problem since it began; with all of the apologetics surrounding the issue, I believe that the problem starts with the opening narrative of man being created in God’s image and the woman a lesser copy, made in the image of man. Even in the most favorable of contexts, the Bible cannot be seen as a guide for any individual who values egalitarianism — it’s rife with issues of financial, gender, and racial inequality. While many churches reject the most extreme strictures of gender stereotyping, embodied perhaps, in the infamous Quiverfull movement, the ideology of men and women having certain “callings” or “spiritual gifts” fall across gender lines. Men’s spiritual gifts, as taught by the church I grew up in, consisted of things like “leadership” and “organization,” while women were typically granted with “listening” and “nurturing.”

(Here’s a link to a frackin’ huge manual on how to discern your spiritual gift and how to put it to use.  Bear in mind, though, that this is the Evangelical Lutheran denomination and they are known to be a bit more progressive about women’s roles in the church. In the church I grew up in, women were restricted to leading the praise and worship (though never alone), teaching children’s Sunday school and children’s church, and sharing an occasional testimony or musical piece.)

Issues of sexism, much like anti-intellectualism, homophobia, and racism, tend to be pervasive, systemic. You can hack off an offending bit, but it’s an exercise in futility, knowing that the rest of it is rotted through as well. The trick, then, is to convince people that it’s not actually rotten, or maybe that rot is good for you, or maybe that it’s been this way for years, so why bother?

One of the most convincing lines, though, is the one that tells us “it’s fixed!” or “problem solved!” It’s a pretty common line that gets trotted out by theist and atheist, skeptic and non-skeptic alike; when atheists tell us that feminism is irrelevant, or when non-minorities tell us that racism is a thing of the past, it makes it that much harder for the feminist and the anti-racist to be heard. No one likes a whiner — especially someone whining about a problem that people don’t believe exists.

And there’s the rub: sexism and racism and all of the other –isms are still very much alive and well in this country. It took us forty-four presidents before a black man won the office (and there were virtually no viable female candidates this time around). Up until recently, anti-choice activists played a key role in the leadership of the Komen Foundation.  A 16-year-old female is subject to objectification within the atheist community.

But, unlike our theist counterparts, we have no need for the reliance on dogma and rhetoric; if we want to, we can employ a healthy dose of skepticism to the problems we see around us, hopefully generating human-oriented solutions to human-created problems. It’s daunting, no doubt about that, but the tools of critical thinking and skeptical inquiry are our best bet at confronting inequality. Our community needs sober eyes and empathetic hearts.

Unfortunately, theism — Christianity in particular — is forced to recycle the same old dogmas into the mill, hoping and (literally) praying for something revelatory to be excreted. At the end of the day, you’re ultimately confined to the boundaries of the holy book you insist on following; if unhappiness results, it’s because you failed to follow the formula, not because the formula is crap to begin with.

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Take this song, for instance. Lecrae is a Christian rapper, and while I haven’t been immersed in Christian music for several years, it seems that he embodies their favorite “ghetto redemption” narrative. These lyrics were posted on Facebook by a theist friend, explaining that the song is an interpretation of Proverbs 5:1-14, a passage written as a warning against the evils of adultery. As I read through the lyrics, my heart just sank… as with much of Christian culture, it reeks of sexism, impossible expectations, and endless guilt. Check them out:

“Walking to my grave letting evilness enslave me

Evil looks so lovely covered in her lace of lies

And the silky smooth seduction just manipulates my mind

Her fabrical fabrication is fueling my fascination

While I’m intoxicated she starts her assassination

I’m losing all my honor and my years to the merciless

Giving all my life away but I’m just so immersed in this (killa)”

And this one:

“Her feet go down to DEATH, so don’t let her consume you

Even though her heart is black, her exterior’s beautiful

She’ll take your life away, strip away your joy

Pretends that she gon build you up but she’s just gon destroy you”

In Christian culture, femininity is a dangerous downward spiral into immorality. The difference between “wholesome” and “seductress” is an exceptionally thin line that varies wildly from group to group; sometimes it’s hemlines, sometimes it’s haircuts. Despite the fact that a woman can unknowingly step into the “seductress” category, Lecrae’s seductress is purposeful in her intent, complete with the idea that she is “manipulating” him and “assassinating” him, like the “merciless,” cruel, sexy bitch that she is. Consequently, you get the idea that any woman who is behaving in a way that you interpret as “seductive” is doing so with knowledge and intent.

I can’t think of a more permanent set of shackles than that given to Christian youth by being told that their bodies are the source of their immorality, that bodies are something to be thoroughly covered up, forgotten, out of sight, out of mind. If you fail to do so completely, if you leave a bit too much skin uncovered, or wear a shirt that’s a little too tight, the assumption is that you are inviting depravity and sin into your life and you know it. I have to wonder how many of my adolescent and teen years I wasted, intentionally distancing myself from my male peers who could have been my friends in the name of purity/fear (I can never remember which…) or patting myself on the back and reassuring myself of the supposed superiority my purity gave me (“It’s so sad and empty to live a life trying to impress all the boys when you could have a greater purpose in life, like me”). There is never enough that a girl can do to secure her purity — it’s in what she wears (every piece), how she walks, how she stands, how she does her hair and makeup, how much eye contact she makes… in a self-selecting survey about modesty, men from a variety of ages answered questions about what constitutes modesty. Check out the results of the agree/disagree statement “the way a girl walks can be a stumbling block”:

75% of responders agree that girls walking can be difficult to deal with.

And some of the written commentary:

"This type of immodesty can only be deliberate."

And I can’t even speak to what the boys go through. The other side of the coin that women’s bodies are responsible for these sexual indiscretions (which could be as small as thinking about another person in a sexual manner) is that men are made to believe that women are sins to commit, rather than individuals with agency. Remember a couple weeks back, when Andrew bravely shared his story about his grisly excommunication from Mars Hill? Remember how his fiancé and fellow fornicator was faced with the same excruciating treatment and ostracism?

No? Neither do I!

It, too, falls into the same gendered crap where women are seen as “weaker vessels” that succumb to their own wicked desires while men are the strong leaders responsible for their redemption. Andrew, you see, was not a strong or leader-y enough of a man (according to Mars Hill standards) to resist the temptations of the flesh; it was his fault and his problem that he had had a “physical” relationship with his fiancé and it was his fault for succumbing to the temptations of the flesh, not that he had broken the trust he had established with his fiancé.

The Christian model of gender roles leaves one side voiceless and the other overburdened with unearned responsibility. Neither position is enviable.

The takeaway here is that we can do gender so much better. As non-theists and as skeptics, we need to understand the pervasiveness of the inequity that surrounds us (in whatever form it takes) and to be honest about our own personal investment in these stereotypes. The atheist and skeptical community may not have the toxic written dogma of religious institutions, but I think we should hold off on the cake and the streamers until we understand how closely we are knit to our long-held beliefs.

Filed Under: General 75 Comments

Low Pay for Teachers is an Example of ‘Biblical Principles’

February 3, 2012 By amanda 22 Comments

If you want an example of the problems of applying a 2,000-3,000-year-old text to modern life, look no further than Alabama State Senator Shadrack McGill.

Alana Horowitz with the Huffington Post reports:

“Teachers need to make the money that they need to make,” McGill said, according to the Times-Journal. “If you double a teacher’s pay scale, you’ll attract people who aren’t called to teach … and these teachers that are called to teach, regardless of the pay scale, they would teach. It’s just in them to do. It’s the ability that God give ‘em.”

McGill’s comments came at a prayer breakfast this week in Fort Payne, Ala.

The best part? The Times-Journal’s David Clemons writes that the quote in question came up while being questioned about the 62% pay raise lawmakers received in 2007.

Of course, this all sort of makes sense when you realize what the guy thinks teaching entails:

“To go in and raise someone’s child for eight hours a day, or many people’s children for eight hours a day, requires a calling. It better be a calling in your life. I know I wouldn’t want to do it, OK?”

Let me just clear something up for you, Senator Shadrack –- you are confusing your teachers with your babysitters, and they are two very different things. Teachers are highly qualified, educated individuals who are trained to deliver educational concepts in engaging and meaningful ways as well as the behavioral modification needed to deliver such concepts to upwards of 30 children and teenagers in a single classroom. Even babysitters and professionals in ECE are not really responsible for “raising” someone’s child; if you have children, Senator, I think you may have passed off a pretty important part of your job to entirely the wrong people.

Additionally, I know of a couple of “Biblical principles” which might conflict with your ideology. There was allegedly this guy named Jesus, and he didn’t have much patience for the kind of people who get 62% raises.

In Matthew 19:24, the oft-cited verse says:

“Again I tell you, it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.”

Perhaps this would be easier to understand if I take some liberties with your original statement?

“Politicians need to make the money that they need to make. If you double a politician’s pay scale, you’ll attract people who aren’t called to pander… and these politicians that are called to pander, regardless of the pay scale, they would pander. It’s just in them to do. It’s the ability that God give ‘em.”

God must be real; it’s the only explanation for such supernatural levels of cognitive dissonance.

Filed Under: General, Politics 22 Comments

Atheist Parents: What Would You Do Differently?

February 2, 2012 By amanda 47 Comments

Once, when I was twelve or so, my dad forgot to pick me up from play rehearsal after school. In the pre-cellphone era, I just stood at the big double doors of the school’s entrance, watching for headlights in the rural blackness of middle-of-nowhere, Indiana. The evening janitorial staff kept shooting me these pitiable looks, and I was starting to wonder how comfortable the tile floor would be to sleep on, and how I’d never live down wearing the same clothes two days in a row, when at last my dad pulled up in the old Aerostar van. Finally!

Apparently, he just plain forgot that he was supposed to pick me up after a meeting he had had that night. He’d arrived home, and rather than a “hello,” he was greeted with a suspicious, “Where is our daughter…?” My mom says he turned eight shades of green, darted back to the van, and rushed to get me in a flurry of apologies.

Now, we sarcastically refer to this event as if it was the ultimate treachery, and in case my father ever has anything snarky to say to me, I’ll just point back to that fateful day as evidence to his “horrible” parenting. We laugh about it now, about his daughter-erasing brain fart, and my melodramatic response of seeking some sort of habitat for a night in the wilds of my small middle school.

At the time, though, I remember one thought in particular that kept circling my adolescent brain: “I’ll never do this when I have kids.”

How often have you all said similar things? Back then, it was a petulant response, extrapolating an honest, adult mistake to be a horrible symbol of my father’s lack of concern for me; but now, I find myself asking myself the same sort of questions, for very different reasons. Instead of slighting my parents for every piece of clothing they didn’t buy for me or event I wasn’t permitted to attend, I’m now starting to question what things I would do differently.

As a hypothetical parent, I would be in completely uncharted territory, as my own beliefs are radically different from my own parents’ faith-based approach. My parents were Christians, as were their parents, my friends and their parents were Christians…come to think of it, I don’t even personally know any atheist parents.

This does have a positive side effect, though: since there are no models to emulate within my immediate experience, the tough tussling with difficult concepts ultimately comes down to discussions with my husband, which is exactly where they ought to be. As I’ve discussed before, leaving the tough choices about parenting to someone outside of you and your family can have enormous repercussions. Religious institutions in particular often call for prescriptive parenting instead of descriptive; that a child will “become” such-and-such an individual if you follow such-and-such discipline program, as outlined by everyone’s favorite child psychologist — the preacher.

So what exactly would I do differently? What parts of my hypothetical parenting would deviate from my own experience being parented in a Christian household?

I have a shortlist, and I’m looking to add more:

1. No mandatory church attendance.

While this may sound like a “duh” statement to those raised outside of religious influence, the implications are much more subtle and much more fraught if grandma and grandpa are religious and readily accessible to the child.

My husband and I want to raise our hypothetical children to decide for themselves. After all, it isn’t their religion (or lack thereof) that I’d be raising — it’s a whole, complete child, equipped with a personality and wants and needs and opinions. Religion will not be kept hidden from them, nor will it be glossed over or minimized, but they will realistically need to know how it informs the beliefs of the greater majority of their family. Developing critical thinking skills will involve us 100% more as parents; fostering these skills would be significantly harder if they are exposed to indoctrination that teaches them that morality is tied to warming a chair once a week at a specific time.

2. No corporal punishment.

As I mentally began sorting through some of these ideas, I realized that my only arguments in favor of physical punishments were faith-based.

Given the track record of this particular discipline technique, the potential for abuse, and the vehement disagreement with the practice from professional communities, I simply don’t see any evidence to even consider the practice in the first place. Full stop.

3. Rewarding honest inquisitiveness.

One characteristic of the Christian religion — or many variants of it — is to discourage critical thinking by painting “doubt” as a negative (just like calling anger “bitterness,” and the useless trapdoor-of-a-phrase, “I’ll pray for you”). I can’t really remember how many sermons I’ve heard about “Doubting Thomas,” where the punchline of the story is almost universally omitted: he ultimately overcomes his doubt through… evidence and reason! For some reason, Thomas was skeptical of the idea that a friend of his was brutally tortured, died, and rose from the dead to walk among humans again, and asked for some simple evidence that would confirm his identity.

You there! With the valid, strong emotions! Why must you be so bitter all the time?

Curiously, in the account in John 20:24-29, Jesus does provide the evidence that Thomas requested, yet (in verse 29) goes on to suggest that request was somewhat petty:

“Jesus saith unto him, Thomas, because thou hast seen Me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.”

However, there are several layers to this case; according to the story, Jesus was able to confirm Thomas’ doubts with actual, physical evidence, which is never available to the person behind the pulpit, claiming to possess the key to unlock Truth. So, in terms of the story, I agree with Jesus: it is better to believe things that are true even if you haven’t personally witnessed it. Things like gravity, pulsars, and evolution can be established to be “true” even if you yourself can never “see” it with your own two eyes.

What I won’t be doing is teaching my children in the churchified version of the Doubting Thomas story, where the blame lies in his curiosity and his “need” for proof. Instead, I want my children to recognize what kind of evidence a given claim will need, and whether or not the evidence given meets those criteria.

4. Recognize autonomy by resisting the urge to “train” a child.

Ultimately, I will have to realize my limited power as a parent. Just like I can’t “make” students learn a concept in the classroom, I can’t “make” a child become something or another. I can encourage certain behaviors while discouraging others, but at the end of the day their identity does not belong to me.

With Christian parents, many people adopt the Driscollian view that their success as a parent lies in the transfer of their religious values to their children, and it’s a recipe for disappointment. By sheer numbers, I would guess that many readers of this blog come from religious backgrounds, and I would guess even further that some might have observed the negative ramifications of religious belief in their cognitive processes. With this kind of irrational desire placed as such a high priority, all other accomplishments — morality, responsibility, love, care, concern for the world around you — take a backseat to the idea that immortal soul of the child they love is in danger. It completely minimizes actual problems and accomplishments, and colors the relationship that parents can have with their teen and adult children. That’s not the kind of relationship that I envision for myself, nor do I understand why any parent would want that.

All your religion are belong to us.

It won’t be an easy journey, but no adventure in parenting ever is. I also don’t believe that my atheism or skepticism equips me to be a perfect parent, but I hope that the desire to think critically about the world around me and my contributions to it will spill over into a dynamic, organically evolving relationship with my hypothetical future children.

How about you? If you are already a parent, what did/do you do differently from faith based parenting approaches? If you’re simply speculating, like me, what are some things that you consider?

Filed Under: Atheist Parenting, General 47 Comments
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