Now more than ever

Witnessing hell has made me a born-again atheist.

By Lauren Sandler

Topics:Atheism

Walking down Houston Street in New York this afternoon, in what a few days ago was the shadow of the Twin Towers, a woman lowered the umbrella that had been shielding her daughter and herself from the tapering rain. “Those were God’s tears,” she explained to her little girl.

My mother had a very different explanation for her daughter today. “To me, this rain is proof that there is no God,” she said on the phone from Boston. “People say that God can’t help terrorism, that he gives people freedom to act as they choose. Fine. But a God who would hinder the rescue workers with rain? If God can’t control nature, then what’s the point? How can anyone believe today?”

It’s a bewildering day for us atheists, this state-appointed “Day of Prayer and Remembrance.” Like the faithful, we mourn. We look for guidance. We look for answers. Our commander in chief tells us to find solace in churches and temples. In those churches and temples, people stand at podiums, survey their mass of grief-stricken congregants and intone the unfathomable words “God will protect us.”

Like many New Yorkers, I’ve seen the shattering hell of mass destruction this week. None of this is metaphor: I have touched the ash-covered shoulders of gasping survivors. I have trudged through the debris that thickly coats the ghost town of Tribeca, staring in shock at the five-story pyre that was a tower of human life and achievement. I have watched families crumple into each other in shaking, tear-soaked sorrow outside St. Vincent’s Hospital when they are told, no, there is no information about your sister, your husband, your daughter. And I have done so without experiencing what some people have described to me as a uniting surge of faith in some omniscient, everlasting force that will make us all whole again.

I have long wondered if in the face of tragedy I would suddenly rely on faith. As a member of a generation that came of age in a peacetime society, I have always assumed that this transcendent tragedy would mean losing my mother or father. I’ve seen friends — skeptics like me — pray in the aftermath of such personal suffering. One of the lucky ones this week, I’ve lost nobody close in the rubble downtown. Perhaps if I had, I would seek solace in those exalted institutions that offered comfort to millions today.

Instead, like my mother’s, my atheism has only been strengthened by this week of human catastrophe. At a “Healing Eucharist” service at a church around the corner form St. Vincent’s hospital, I got up to leave when the rector chanted: “Bless the Lord who forgives our sins,” and the congregation responded: “His mercy endures forever.” In a nearby house of alternative healing, I snuck out the side door when I was told, “As spiritual seekers we must understand these things happen for a purpose. If we don’t accept that, all we’ll have is anger and animosity in our hearts.” I believe anger and animosity is an appropriate response to mass murder.

But while my Day of Prayer has been free of trust in saints, swamis and shamans, it has not been without a resurrection of sorts. Again and again this week, I have found my faith restored by the immeasurably selfless valiance of earthly heroes. Last night I met a holy trinity of ironworkers among the believers who congregated on the western end of Houston Street. There, on the corner of Sixth Avenue, was a mass of citizens waving flags and cheering for each truckload of rescue workers speeding north for a few hours of rest before reentering the inferno.

Mike, Ron and Steve are all local ironworkers who were blowing off steam with a few six-packs of Bud, yelling AC/DC lyrics and flirting with girls before they headed south for another 15-hour shift. (That’s how they were planning to spend their Day of Prayer, fighting smoke and falling debris to cut steel beams away from trapped bodies.) These guys, and thousands like them, marched into ground zero without training or enough fear to hold them back.

“It’s too graphic,” said Steve, as he fidgeted with the gauze that covered a new wound. “Piles of death. I don’t have the words to tell you. But nothing’s gonna keep me away from going back.” Mike wrapped a grime-blackened arm around his buddy Ron, still wearing his hard hat. “Let me tell you, I hung my head low today,” he said. We left a lot of dead people today. But I’ve got faith in my boys here. True faith. Religious faith. We’re ironworkers! And we’ll show them what America can take; I don’t care if we have to die trying.”

Of course many of these rescuers are strong believers, able — some say obligated — to do their brave work because of their faith in God. But listening to the parade of preachers speak in the National Cathedral today, it was these dusty and unshaven faces that I meditated upon like religious icons.

With this astonishing human bravery to bless America, who needs God?

: Lauren Sandler is Salon's Life editor and the author of "Righteous: Dispatches from the Evangelical Youth Movement." More Lauren Sandler

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The Internet decides death is evidence against atheism

By Mary Elizabeth Williams

(Credit: Antonov Roman via Shutterstock)

Topics:Christopher Hitchens, Religion, Atheism

Christopher Hitchens, the fiery, indomitable, and highly divisive essayist and author, once declared “Vindication — being proved repeatedly and over and over again right, when other people are wrong — does a lot for me.” And with his death Wednesday, he’s proven how popular that sentiment really is. In fact, it turns out there’s nothing like the death of an outspoken atheist to bring out the “told ya so” brigade of believers.

Within hours of the news of Hitchens’s passing at the age of 62, the Internet was hotter than an inner circle of hell with the God squad thundering its own version of vindication. Along with plenty of hope that he “made his peace with God,” there was blowhard-for-Jesus Rick Warren tweeting that “My friend Christopher Hitchens has died. I loved & prayed for him constantly & grieve his loss. He knows the Truth now,” while creepy creationist Ray Comfort declared that the now dead “Christopher Hitchens is no longer an atheist.” LifeWay’s Ed Stetzer, meanwhile, blogged that “When Christopher Hitchens died, he entered into eternity as every man does: as a beggar at the gates of the kingdom,” and Southern Baptist Seminary president Albert Mohler tweeted that “The death tonight of Christopher Hitchens is an excruciating reminder of the consequences of unbelief. We can only pray others will believe.” I’m not a brilliant debater like Hitchens, but let me field this one. Death is not a consequence of disbelief. It’s a consequence of living, you moron.

We know with certainty that Christopher Hitchens’ body is today dead. Beyond that, nobody — neither believer nor atheist — can say with total certainty if there’s more to this life than this life, or what that might entail. Rick Warren can say he knows “the truth” till judgment day, but that doesn’t make him right. What his statement does, however, prove is the powerful, human need to feel right.

Hitchens certainly came face-to-face with that combative, evangelical desire to be right long before he shuffled off the mortal coil. The man who wrote a book called “God Is Not Great” and championed his atheism to anyone who wanted to debate it publicly cringed when Sept. 20 was declared a “Pray for Hitchens Day.” He likely knew that the Missionaries of Charity order of Mother Teresa, a woman he branded a “fanatic, a fundamentalist, and a fraud,” would declare they were praying for him and his family after his death. But he also, in his gentlemanly English way, understood that people would pray for him anyway. Well, not quite for him. “Please do not trouble deaf heaven with your bootless cries,” he wrote. “Unless, of course, it makes you feel better.”

I’m a Christian. A skeptical, questioning, frequently disappointed one who makes no pretense of having all the answers, but a Christian nonetheless. I pray every day. But my tacit deal with the universe is that I don’t need anyone I pray for to believe in God, any more than I take offense if someone who has a different belief system (or lack thereof) says he’ll set an intention or cast a spell or simply keep me in his thoughts. A prayer, like a kind thought, or good intention, or whatever you call it, isn’t supposed to be conditional. It can be graciously sent out — and gratefully accepted — without a commitment on either side. It certainly isn’t something one should undertake with a spiteful, I’m-doing-this-even-though-you-don’t-want-me-to-because-I-am-right-and-you-are-wrong-ta-da! flourish. So if you’re the praying type, pray. But don’t take those prayers as irrefutable proof of the existence of a deity, or an opportunity to do some Twitter bragging.

Regarding Hitchens, I’m with writer Tom Jamieson, who observed that it “would be nice to think God does exist, simply for the earful he’s getting right now.” Regarding God, I don’t consider the death of an author as evidence of anything other than what a vicious bitch cancer is. I don’t think it’s cause for a group affirmation of how this proves anything. I just think it’s a cruel loss and the silencing of a great voice. Maybe I’m wrong. But that’s all right, because as Hitchens himself once succinctly stated, “My own opinion is quite enough for me.”

: Mary Elizabeth Williams is a staff writer for Salon and the author of "Gimme Shelter: My Three Years Searching for the American Dream." Follow her on Twitter: @embeedub. More Mary Elizabeth Williams

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There are thousands of rational thinkers, including scientists, who happen to have faith in God

By Alan Lightman

(Credit: Ian Heubert)

Topics:Religion, Science, Atheism

This piece is part of an ongoing dialogue about the relationship between science and faith. You can read Alan Lightman's original essay here and Daniel Dennett's response here.

I am delighted to receive such a thoughtful response by the distinguished philosopher Daniel Dennett.

Let me make one point clear at the beginning. Dennett, Dawkins and I agree that most religions have some beliefs that contradict science, and we also agree that religion has done harm in the world. The question is: What should be our attitude toward religion and toward individual people who have religious beliefs?

With regard to the meeting of science and religion, both Dennett and Dawkins take the stance of a strict dualism, an either/or position, a black and white portrait that I cannot accept. In fact, I would argue that such an absolutist position has some of the same problems as fundamentalism of any kind.

Dennett says that I am concerned that Dawkins is “too darned clear, too brutally frank when he articulates his case” against religion. It is not Dawkins’ clarity that concerns me. It is his condescension toward believers and his labeling of this large group of people as non-thinkers. In contrast to what Dennett suggests, I certainly do not take lightly the problems posed by today’s religions. We should continue to oppose religious practices that cause harm to other human beings, and we should continue to oppose irrational thinking on issues that require rational thought. But does this mean that we should dismiss believers as non-thinkers? There are thousands of intelligent, thoughtful and rational thinkers who also believe in God.

Dennett says that I am “letting off the hook” Frances Collins and Owen Gingerich – presumably by not actively contesting their belief in an intervening God who performs miracles. I clearly state in my essay that I disagree with these scientists in this particular belief. But that does not mean that I consider Collins and Gingerich irrational people, or people who are somehow dangerous to our society, as Dawkins implies in his writing. Show me an instance where Collins or Gingerich has refused to accept a particular finding of science or been hindered in their scientific work because of their religious beliefs, and I would vigorously oppose them. Quite the contrary, these people have made valuable contributions to science and the history of science. Their ability to do so, in fact, demonstrates that religious beliefs and science can live side by side within the human mind. Have Albert Gore’s religious beliefs dulled his ability to think rationally and to work to protect the environment? Certainly, philosophers and other intellectuals, such as Dennett and Dawkins, should study and articulate what they consider to be logical and self-consistent systems of understanding. But we should also look at the evidence afforded us by real, practicing human beings, like Collins and Gingerich and Gore.

Dennett wants me to delineate my view of the boundaries of faith. I will do so. I oppose any belief that contradicts experimental evidence as determined by the methods of science. All beliefs not in such contradiction may be considered as faith. Whether faith in a particular belief is beneficial or not is another matter. For example, I would not embrace faith that mental concentration can affect the outcome of a coin flip, because experiments show that the distribution of heads and tails comes out in a random pattern regardless of the wishes of bystanders. On the other hand, I would consider as legitimate faith the belief that some intelligent being created the universe or that our lives have a meaning, because those beliefs have not been disproved by science.

Dennett says that because I have commented that some of the great works of art were inspired by religion, I imply that atheists (of which I am one) are “a philistine lot.” Surely, as a philosopher, Dennett knows that a statement does not imply its inverse. “If you are religious, then you create art,” does not imply “If you are not religious, then you do not create art.”

Finally, Dennett says that I “prefer to sing the praises of faith without holding it to account.” I’m sorry, but I do not think it is faith, as I define it in my essay and as I have defined it above, that has caused the sufferings of human beings through the ages. It is the lack of moral compass in individual human begins that has caused suffering.

Dennett reminds me that Richard Dawkins is deeply appreciative of the art, music and poetry that religion has engendered, but it is just that Dawkins believes that religion, on balance, has accomplished more harm than good.

I would find it difficult to attempt such a tally. Whatever the results of such a balance, does that mean we, like Dawkins, should throw out religion wholesale, take a condescending attitude toward people of religious beliefs, label people of religious beliefs as non-thinkers imperious to scientific evidence? No. It means that we should continue to oppose those practices of religion that do damage, we should continue to oppose irrational thinking on issues that require rational thinking and evidence. But, at the same time, I would argue that we should allow our existence to encompass some things that we cannot explain by rational argument and proof.

We live in a highly polarized society. We need to try to understand each other in respectful ways. To that end, I believe that we should make room for both spiritual atheists and thinking believers.

: Alan Lightman, both a novelist and a physicist, teaches at MIT. His new book, "Mr g," a novel about the creation, will be published in January. More Alan Lightman

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A certain breed of nonbelievers are anxious to avoid pointing out the real flaws of religion

By Daniel Dennett

(Credit: Ian Heubert)

Topics:Religion, Science, Atheism

This article was written in response to Alan Lightman's essay arguing that science and faith can coexist.

What is it about “The God Delusion” that this breed of non-believers finds so upsetting? With his recent “Does God Exist?” essay, Alan Lightman joins a long line of atheist apologists who feel compelled to respond negatively to Richard Dawkins’ campaign but find it hard to put forward a crisp, fact-based objection. Since Lightman endorses Dawkins’ “completely convincing” dismantling of the standard arguments for the existence of God, his main concern appears to be that Dawkins is too darn clear, too brutally frank, when he articulates his case. Lightman wants us to keep our criticisms hyper-polite, and pass lightly over the glaring problems posed by today’s religions.

This sort of fuzziness has its uses. The Vaseline on the camera lens that blurs out the wrinkles on the face of the aging movie star is not just a sop to her vanity; it is both considerate and self-serving. Let’s not dwell on what her face has become; let’s allow her to re-create the beauty that stunned us in the past. Everybody wins. Lightman defends much the same policy with regard to religion: Let’s keep our objections in soft focus and avoid drawing attention to even quite ugly flaws.

For instance, he notes that famous contemporary scientists Francis Collins, the head of the Human Genome Project, and Owen Gingerich, a Harvard professor of astronomy and history of science, defend an “interventionist” (miracle-making) God that violates the Central Doctrine of science, but he lets them both off the hook. What excuses them from the standards of rational inquiry that science demands? Lightman cites the existence of worthwhile areas of intellectual exploration (in art and literature and philosophy, for instance) that do not share the scientific ideal of restricting oneself to working on “well-posed problems” — ones that can be stated precisely enough to guarantee a definite solution. But some of the claims that Collins and Gingerich endorse are, in fact, unsupported answers to “well-posed problems”: Is there any rational grounding for a belief in a miracle-making interventionist God? (No.) Do we need God to account for the brilliant design of living things? (No.) Do we need God to somehow underwrite or ground our confidence that our ethical convictions are not just parochial prejudices? (No.) There is nothing gloriously, ineffably, tantalizingly imponderable about these questions, carefully crafted and vetted by philosophers and scientists over the centuries.

Lightman fails to consider the possibility, moreover, that the reason many theological questions continue to evade the bright light of rational inquiry is that they have been ingeniously crafted by theologians to do just that. As the traditional concepts of God, heaven and hell crumble in the collision with science, the theologians invent new, more “sophisticated” concepts to take their place. They are improvements only in the sense that they are more immune to falsification by any imaginable discovery. This is, of course, recognized by many, perhaps most, traditional religious leaders, who regard theologians as closet atheists, lapsed believers trying to hang in there.

Lightman argues for a broader definition of faith, but he doesn’t explain what the boundaries of a properly expansive view of faith might be, and what sorts of nonsense it might tolerate. Faith healing instead of medical care? The Rapture? The efficacy of animal sacrifice? Or, what about convictions less relevant to important decision-making in life: the virgin birth and transubstantiation of the host? As a scientist he would declare any secular claims along those lines to be outright hoaxes. Is it mere politeness that prevents him from telling Francis Collins that if he, as a Roman Catholic, believes these doctrines, he is — in a word — deluded? How far does Lightman’s tolerance extend? By failing to define the limits of his own tolerance for faith, his point, it appears, is to engender a warm, fuzzy protective glow around religion.

Like many atheists, Dawkins — as Lightman surely knows — is deeply appreciative of all the glorious art and music and poetry that religion has engendered. But still he trots out the canonical list of glories to float the implication that we atheists are a philistine lot. Shame on him. That is what I call faith-fibbing. Not so much a bald-faced lie as a carefully indirect misrepresentation. He can’t actually claim that Dawkins doesn’t weigh the many contributions of religion to the arts against the damage it has wrought. Dawkins does just that, and arrives at a judgment with which Lightman apparently disagrees: All things considered, religion’s blessings are outweighed by the harm they do. The problem is that Lightman doesn’t tackle that difficult issue; he prefers to sing the praises of faith without holding it to account. If you hawked a health spa or weight-loss regime with this sort of propaganda, you could be charged with false and misleading advertising.

Editor’s Note: Look for Lightman’s response in tomorrow’s Salon.

: Daniel Dennett is University Professor and Co-Director of the Center for Cognitive Studies at Tufts University (Medford, MA). His study, with Linda LaScola, of closeted non-believing clergy, has led to the creation of a new website, clergyproject.org, a refuge for clergy who don't believe the creeds they are obliged to proclaim. More Daniel Dennett

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... and thanks for all the fish

By Drew Grant

douglas adams inspired "Hitch hikers guide to the galaxy" H2G2 (Credit: Michael Hughes)

Topics:10 year time capsule, Atheism, Science Fiction and Fantasy, Writers and Writing, YouTube, Books

42. This was the “Answer to the Ultimate Question of Life, the Universe, and Everything,” according to British science fiction writer Douglas Adams’ serial, “The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy.” Of course, those familiar with Adams’ oeuvre know the problem with this answer, which is that no one can figure out what the question is. But what did it matter, when one was busy dealing with races of super-intelligent beings disguised as mice, lunk-headed Vogons, and all manner of outer-space bureaucrats?

: Drew Grant is a staff writer for Salon. Follow her on Twitter at @videodrew. More Drew Grant

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A poll finds they enjoy themselves more than believers -- but is it because of skill, or just less guilt?

By Tracy Clark-Flory

Topics:Sex, Love and Sex, Atheism, Religion

If you’re an atheist, your odds of getting lucky tonight just improved — because rumor has it you’re great in the sack. You can thank your wingman: A new study on sex and religious belief that has led to headlines proclaiming things like, “Atheists Do It Better.”

As a non-believer myself, I responded to the news of my inherent sexual prowess by gloating for a moment. But then I applied the atheist’s signature brand of skepticism and discovered that, well, the survey didn’t exactly find that the non-religious are better lays. What it actually suggests is that we report having more satisfying and less guilt-ridden sex lives — which still sounds pretty awesome! But there are a number of caveats here: This is an Internet survey, not a randomized or representative study; and, as others have already pointed out, the poll was promoted on Pharyngula, a very popular atheist-friendly blog. Another limiting factor: The findings are based on self-reporting, which is always tricky when it comes to sex research. It’s also true that one of the survey’s authors, psychologist Daniel Ray, wrote, “The God Virus: How Religion Infects Our Lives and Culture,” and these preliminary findings will be published in his upcoming book, “Sex and God: How Religion Distorts Sexuality.” He is far from an impartial observer.

So, grain of salt aside, a look at what the study — titled “Sex and Secularism: What Happens When You Leave Religion?” — actually found: Believers as a whole report being less satisfied with their sex lives and much less willing to share or act out their sexual fantasies with their partners. The less religious the home they grew up in, the less sexual guilt they reported. Interestingly enough, the researchers found that respondents reported “dramatic improvement in sexual satisfaction and a decrease in guilt after people left religion.” Roughly 55 percent said sex “greatly improved” after losing their religion, compared to 2.2 percent who said it got worse (note, though, that this is an example of dubious self-reporting).

One of the more surprising tidbits is that despite much higher rates of self-reported sexual guilt among believers, their sexual behavior is not notably different from that of non-believers. We all masturbate, watch porn, engage in oral sex and have pre-marital sex at similar rates. The authors summarize, “Guilt is a key component of religious attitudes about sex but actual behavior[s] … do not change appreciably with religiosity.” It’s just that non-believers have less fun and more guilt while doing it.

This study may have major limitations, but it did get me thinking more about how religious belief influences sexual experience. I won’t even try to wade into the debate of who’s better in bed or who enjoys themselves more — that seems too much like locker room banter. Besides, I find it far more interesting to explore how our beliefs about the world as a whole shape our view of sex. I can only speak to my own experience as a non-believer who grew up hearing sex described as “transcendent,” along with other hippie-dippy language. My atheist father once told me: “Good sex is like two star systems colliding in outer space.” That description is so appropriately scientific and yet there is also a sense of the sacred, the holy in it. I suppose there are some things — like love and sex — that are deified by all of us, theists and godless heathens alike.