Gathering of the Godless

I found myself in the awkward position a few years ago of trying to explain to a skeptical nursing supervisor at an assisted living facility how I could be the good person she perceived me to be without necessarily believing in God.

I can’t remember how the discussion got started. But the gist was that the woman, whose accent suggested Caribbean roots, had praised me for being a good Christian and following Jesus’ example by volunteering to serve those on society’s margins. I think she quoted the Bible. For whatever reason, I felt compelled to tell her I consider myself to be an agnostic and the Bible to be exactly as divinely inspired as is Bartlett's—another collection of memorable sayings compiled by run-of-the-mill human beings.

It wouldn’t be accurate to say that she and I argued. It was more an agree-to-disagree situation. We liked and respected each other before and after the discussion. What had ensued in between was mutual incredulity. She couldn’t fathom that my apparently sound moral base had nothing to do with faith in God, and I couldn’t understand her inability to conceive of secular-based ethics.

The reason I mention this is because last Saturday I attended the Reason Rally on the National Mall, and I’ve been trying ever since to sort out my conflicting feelings about this atheism-applauding, religion-denouncing event.

What I liked most about it was how it reinforced the point I was trying to make to the nursing supervisor. My favorite speaker, hands-down, was Nate Phelps, son of the crazy Kansas preacher you’ve seen with his followers on the TV news, protesting at veterans’ funerals. You know, the group that believes our soldiers deserve to die as penance for America’s homosexuality-embracing culture. The one phrase of Nate Phelps’s that I jotted down was, “The supernatural need not be invoked in order for people’s lives to have purpose and meaning.” He roundly denounced his father’s activities and worldview.

(Nate was described on the program as the “estranged” son of Westboro Baptist Church leader Fred Phelps.)

The rally’s headliner—I would call him its rock star except that the band Bad Religion was there, too, and they’re (arguably) actual rock stars—was British biologist Richard Dawkins. No, not Richard Dawson, although Dawkins has created a family feud of his own between believers and nonbelievers with books such as the 2006 bestseller The God Delusion. On stage last Saturday, as in his books, Dawkins belittled religious belief as superstition and nonsense. He suggested that a “critical mass” has been reached whereby the vast army of atheists in the world can and should “come out of the closet.”

There was a lot I didn’t care for in Dawkins’ speech. Primarily his dismissal of religious faith as lacking in any merit whatsoever, but also the hubris of his smug assumption that he’s part of a silent majority. (He certainly hasn’t spent much time in the God-fearing US of A.) But there, too, I felt conflicted. I would love for atheists to be able to live in a world in general, and a United States in particular, where they can be open about their apostasy without fear of discrimination and retribution. I personally don’t see that happening anytime soon, and that saddens me. Regardless, is equating religious faith with idiocy the best path to acceptance?

The fact is, atheism makes me uncomfortable in the same ways that religious fundamentalism does. There’s the suggestion that “we”—in this case, defenders of science and self-appointed keepers of reason (hence the rally’s name) have all the answers. And, that, by extension, those who don’t agree with us have nothing constructive to offer. There’s the suggestion, too, in atheism that everything under the sun is knowable and explainable by reason and logic. That rules out not just religious faith, but also New Age beliefs and all manifestations of spiritualism and mysticism. How vastly vanilla, unimaginative and unquestioning would a world of atheistic supremacy be?

I think my friend Alison has it right. She’s deeply active in a group called the Ethical Humanist Society of Long Island (EHSLI). This is from their home page:

Ethical Humanism is a deeply held set of core values dedicated to the ideals of global justice, mutual respect and compassion. As humanists, we place our trust in the innate goodness of people. Ethical actions and ethical relationships are at the heart of all that we do.

Our connection to the universe occurs through our connections to other people, nature and the arts. We support the use of science to reveal mysteries of the natural world. We focus on this world, the here and now, and are not overly concerned about what happens after we die. We believe that what we do and how we act in this life is our most important priority.

Note the phrase “mutual respect,” and also that bit about the afterlife. Groups such as Alison’s—there are many around the country—favor certain things without feeling compelled to be against other things—unless those things are as indefensible as are, say, injustice and bigotry. Also, there’s no suggestion that the ethical humanists know everything there is to know—or even that everything can be known. What happens after you die? Who knows? In the meantime, let’s make things better in the here and now.

Alison told me a few days ago that an EHSLI member had attended the Reason Rally and had written about it for their newsletter. She e-mailed me the document. Here’s an excerpt from the article by Sylvia Silberger:

The event's theme was that secular voters should make themselves more visible. According to recent polls, secular America amounts to 16% of the US population and is the fastest growing "religious" denomination. However, the religious right has grown more dominant in political discourse and there seems to be a sense among the general public that one needs religion to have morality. It is nearly impossible for an open atheist to get elected to public office, and politicians still routinely dismiss atheists as "un-American." As humanists, whether religious or not, we know atheists can be as moral and ethical as theists. Our motto "Deed before Creed," is precisely a testament to that sentiment.

The simple brilliance of those words makes me prouder in retrospect to have attended the same rally as Sylvia Silberger than to have been in the company of Richard Dawkins and (via satellite) fellow faith-mocker Bill Maher.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m all for the complete separation of church and state, and for getting for religion entirely out of politics. (As if that ever will happen.) Why, I’m even against opening the congressional day with a nondenominational prayer. Again, I don’t consider the Bible a holy book. And I do view many, many religious-based beliefs—zygote as person, stem cell research as homicidal, marriage as solely male-female—as loony. But I cherish the constitutionally protected freedom of speech that grants such views public voice, and that gave a succession of speakers free license to trash God and His followers before thousands of cheering spectators last weekend, right there on “The Nation’s Front Yard.”

One more thought. Not only do atheists get on my nerves, but, they strike me as dicey company. I mean, I passed an anti-“Obamacare” rally on Capitol Hill on my way to the Mall, and many of the signs raised by that angry group quoted biblical verses and conveyed anti-abortion messages. I honestly half-expected someone from that gathering—if not a full religious mob raised through social networking—to violently crash the Reason Rally in the name of the unborn.

It’s fine to talk about atheists coming out of the closet, but the truth is, it’s still pretty dangerous out in the open.

Which is why, if and when Reason Rally II comes to town, I’m sure to be there.