Bad Reputation

Let us consider the Reverend Fred Phelps, who for the last couple of decades has been treating us to signs reading, for instance, "God Hates Fags." It was he who, by picketing Matthew Shepard's funeral, inspired the Angel Action, which was later memorialized in the play and film "The Laramie Project." Mostly, Phelps serves to embarrass other Christians; even those who share his distaste for homosexuality cringe at his vulgarity. My disagreement with Phelps, though, starts even before we get to that one offensive word. Take away those four letters, and you have the root of much of humanity's self-inflicted misery: "God Hates."

Really? God hates?

How would you describe the best person you've ever known? Patient? Fair-minded? Understanding, forgiving, serene? Nobody's perfect, of course, but I have been fortunate enough to know several people whom I would credit with most or all of these qualities. So why do we believe in a God who is petty, violent, jealous, vindictive and insecure? Let's face it, the God of religion can be kind of a jerk. If He were a boyfriend, you'd dump Him. If He were a neighbor, you'd move away. If He were either of your parents, you'd be in therapy forever. A truly dysfunctional relationship.

So how did this happen? How did God get such a bad reputation? As much as I would love to blame this on some clerical conspiracy to control people, I actually believe that the angry God predates faith. Back at the dawn of humanity--when literally nothing was known of the world-- people died for no apparent reason, weather was unpredictable and often fatal, unseen danger lurked everywhere. What better explanation could there be than that there was an all-powerful entity at work, cruelly causing these things to happen? And why not try to placate Him? Try one thing, and the crops fail, so that doesn't please Him. Try the next thing, and you get a bumper crop, so you add that ritual to your repertoire. Pretty soon, you've got yourself a bona fide religion.

By now, we have a much better understanding of the world around us; yet we still believe in a capricious God. This is a shame, because it stands in the way of a healthy spiritual life. How can you have a close, trusting relationship with someone who could turn on you at any moment? I know that for some people, the alternative--that bad things happen randomly, or have circumstances beyond our control--is frighteningly close to nihilism. But here's the upside: if bad things are going to happen (and they are), wouldn't you rather that they weren't God's doing? That way, you can turn to Him for comfort, without reservation.

Tolerance and Tolerability

This seems to have been a breakout week for Anonymous, the deliberately shadowy group targeting Scientology. And while I certainly agree that misdeeds should be unmasked and justice served, I have a slightly queasy feeling at the tone of their campaign. Not that I feel the need to defend the Scientologists--they do that just fine on their own. What concerns me is the state of tolerance in our society. How we deal with Scientology may be a test case for our era, and we cannot fail.

When I talk about tolerance, I'm talking about what people believe, not how they behave. Nobody can be blamed for thinking what they think; but every person is responsible for their own actions. Fortunately, most believers agree, and live in a manner harmonious with society--A.J. Jacobs aside, you don't see many folks out stoning adulterers. Religious leaders, in turn, recognize that their communities can thrive only by deemphasizing the more extreme aspects of their doctrines. And so we get along, hardly minding the abominations and the blasphemy around us.

If even some of the allegations against the Church of Scientology have merit, they should get all the attention they deserve. My intolerance meter is triggered, though, when the criticism spills over into mocking their beliefs. It is not hard to imagine that some may find the science fiction dogma of the CoS snicker-worthy. The virgin birth, burning bush, and human salt pillar of my childhood faith have also raised a few satirical eyebrows along the way (just ask the Gershwin brothers). I am all for sunshine, and if Scientology really is up to no good, then game on. But while we are sharpening our swords, let's be sure that we are going after them for what they do, and not simply who they are.

God Bless the Atheists

For a person who spends so much time thinking about God, I am actually very sympathetic with atheism. The father of my children is an atheist, as was the boyfriend who preceded him, my best friend from childhood, and perhaps the majority of people I've ever known (I'm from San Francisco, so...). In fact, I probably have more in common with your average atheist than I do with the average believer. I admire their rationality, their humanist values, their belief in science, observation, and experience. The only difference between an atheist and myself is that I believe that I have experience of God, and an atheist believes that he or she doesn't.

There is no arguing this point, of course. I cannot convince an atheist of God's existence any more than they could convince me of the reverse. Nor would I want to; after a lifetime of observing the faith habits of others, I have come to the conclusion that personal revelation is the only way to come to any sort of truth. In other words, it is more important that someone be intellectually and spiritually honest with themselves than it is for them to agree with me. Atheism is a valid stance. I diverge with my husband on this question, but I do not worry about his mortal soul. He's entitled to his opinion.

Still, there are a couple of philosophical matters which I have not yet reconciled with the atheist point of view--if all atheists can be thought of as having a single point of view. To wit:

Origins

Frank Lloyd Wright said "I believe in God, only I spell it nature." This is a popular quote with atheists, but I am too jealous to let them have it to themselves. Nature is unquestionably where I perceive the manifestation of God. Like an atheist, I see randomness in nature; but in order for there to be that randomness, there must first be existence. What is the origin of that existence? I am fine with the not knowing here. Scientific discovery is a long process, and I'm not holding my breath. But if we never come up with a better answer than that it's turtles all the way down, I will continue to believe that the beginning was God. And what was before God? This question, truly, unites the unknown with the unknowable. Deep.

Consciousness

You do not have to believe in God to acknowledge the phenomenon of consciousness. For me, though, the two are linked because my experience of God does not occur in the physical realm. I have never seen, heard, or touched God. Yet his presence is as certain to me as any other aspect of my life. This is not unique to me. Music, love, humor, art--all intangible, none concrete; still, people build entire lives around them, yearn for them, die for the loss of them. These things do not feed our bodies or protect our young; why do they exist? This question is the subject of much study, and should continue to be. Understanding who we are is central to human culture. But there may be a limit to what we can understand about consciousness, since consciousness is the very tool with which we understand things. And so I will turn to the unlikeliest of places for my wisdom here, to a poem by Shel Silverstein called "The Loser," which I have loved from childhood. The hero of the poem has literally lost his head, and muses:

"And I can't look for it
'Cause my eyes are in it
And I can't call to it
'Cause my mouth is on it
(Couldn't hear me anyway
'Cause my ears are on it)
Can't even think about it
'Cause my brain is in it."

If God ever had reason to run a series of PSA's, this might be a good tag line. Consciousness: you can't even think about it, 'cause your brain is in it.

More for the godless, and those who love them: How Julia Sweeney became an atheist, on This American Life. Her story is the second half, so you can skip ahead; but the first half is about separation of church and state, which is always interesting.