These opinion pieces always seem to be the opinions of people who have low opinions of atheists. It doesn’t matter what season they publish them in, either. It’s always open season on reason. It’s just that unlike deer, atheists don’t just stand there and take it, nor do they run. So, onto this piece out of the Toronto Star.
Whereas in former times dogmatic and passionate assertions in defence of faith were the prerogative of religious writers, nowadays atheism seems to have become the stock-in-trade of several popular authors who ferociously attack religion in the guise of common sense and scientific objectivity.
True, some of the more vocal atheists are very passionate about getting the word out, and push their beliefs as hard or harder than some religions do. But would a whisper do as well as a scream? Negative publicity is still publicity. The more irate the other side gets over guys like Hitchens and Harris, the more people look to see what all the fuss is about. Not everyone’s going to agree with them, but they still might get a few thinking about what it is they believe and why they hang onto them.
To affirm God, or worse still to retract once held atheist opinions, is to risk their severe strictures. Thus when, a few years ago, the celebrated English philosopher Anthony Flew, who for more than five decades was the prime exponent of philosophical atheism on both sides of the Atlantic, announced that he had reconsidered his position and now affirms God as Creator, some of his former confreres described him as a victim of senile dementia.
I was likewise disappointed to find out that Terry Pratchett “found God” after he learned he has Alzheimer’s. It’s been joked that hopefully he’s forgotten where he put Him now but I can see why a person would turn to religion at a time like that – not just to pray for a miracle but at least ask for the peace and understanding and acceptance of something beyond one’s control.
Their second line of attack was that, like so many before him, fearing approaching death the aged professor had reverted to the religious myths of his childhood. Flew was not believed when he insisted that his affirmation of God in no way affected his consistent rejection of an afterlife. To the philosopher’s lucid, measured and coherent explanations the apostles of atheism reacted with shrill denunciations characteristic of true believers.
I don’t know who Anthony Flew is but I’m new in the world of paying attention to what world-wide atheists have to say about other world-wide atheists. Thanks Daylight Atheism, for some info on this dude and a very smart retort: “We are not atheists because we follow Antony Flew (or Richard Dawkins, or Sam Harris). We follow these people because we are atheists and find their positions in agreement with our own.” Well said.
In 1982, when atheism was fashionable among academics, David Hay published a remarkable book called Exploring Inner Space. Being a zoologist, Hay felt liberated from the intellectual baggage of hostile philosophers and defensive theologians. When surveying religious views he didn’t ask people about their beliefs but about their experiences. The results were startling.
I don’t know who Hay is either. From his own site, “I have been able to demonstrate that spiritual experience is extraordinarily widespread in Britain, in spite of the decline of formal religion. My findings have implications for a broader understanding of the psychology and sociology of Western religion and its sources in European cultural history.”
For example, in response to the question whether they ever felt close to a supernatural power they may describe as God or identify by another name, 23 per cent of those who said they were atheists and 24 per cent of agnostics replied in the affirmative. No more than 56 per cent of regular worshippers reported such closeness.
It appears that using conventional labels masks, not describes, religious experience. This is often independent of formal links to organized religion. Flew’s affirmation of God didn’t bring him back to the church but it did make him aware of the reality of creation and its mystery. And it’s not advanced years but mature thought that led him to this conclusion.
Good for him? Spirituality and a sense of wonderment about the world can exist independently of religious upbringing. Call me the “Five Minute Expert” here, but I’d say it’s possible to feel a connection to something bigger than one’s self without giving the connection a deity’s description. Pride in a community or connectedness to family can create feelings of great peace and security in the same way a church community can. And I don’t think it’s a stretch to claim there’s a feeling of reverence when faced with the beauty of a night sky or other natural wonder, either. It might be more strange if we didn’t feel like part of the majesty at all. I’d never be satisfied by believing a supernatural entity created it. I think it’s far far more amazing if nobody did. Giving credit to some unseen mover might give it more meaning but who says a star has to mean anything? A star can’t care where it shines nor can it be sad when it dies. If we say it happens for some divine purpose, it’s only because we crave one. Life existing without purpose is a troublesome idea for many people. I’m pretty sure that’s part of what gives faith its power.
Readers of books for or against religion, not least at this time of the year, may bear it in mind. Though exponents of dogmas and norms of every faith and denomination may be flawed, and though affirming God doesn’t necessarily solve the vexing question about the persistence of evil in the world, or the mysteries of life and death, no amount of scientific advances can eradicate the fundamental human awareness of a power that’s beyond us and which tradition has often identified as God.
Not yet, anyway. Doesn’t mean the day won’t come when we’re faced with a choice to continue in ignorance or uncover the mystery of the universe at last. Perhaps it will be revealed that the “man behind the curtain” never was a man or god at all. Maybe that’s humanity’s last step. Maybe it’s the next step. There’s no way to know.
Nobel Prize winner Elie Wiesel has said that you can be with God or against God, but not without God. I’m privileged to be part of a tradition that perceives and celebrates the divine in words and rituals, and seeks to put them into practice in moral acts. At times, like my biblical forebears, I argue against God when life seems unfair, yet I always affirm the eternal in hope and trust. Readers may find this path helpful, including consumers of atheist tracts.
Readers might find this path helpful, as well:
I feel I’m privileged to live in a world where I can select the best of all possible choices to be moral and ethical, not be confined to the rules of tradition or rituals that might not support current ideals about life and liberty. I can decide. I can choose. I can hope for a better world and extend trust to those who promise to help make it happen and I can actively help make it happen, too.
