The View From My High Horse

A post on Facebook today made me think. It read: 

For me, it's not just one simple fact. I am an atheist because of many complicated reasons. It took 40+ years of observation and inquiry to get me to the point that I was willing to take on the burden of the label "atheist." But here are some of the results of my struggle. 


Where you see a medical miracle, I see the application of doctors' accumulated knowledge, skills and training, advances in medical technologies, and drugs that cost millions of dollars and years of meticulous clinical trials to develop. The woman in the next hospital room might not have been so fortunate. But still, I celebrate that cure with you, as it permits you to enjoy another day with your loved one.


Where you see God's mercy in having the one house in a community spared the devastation of a tornado, I see randomness and a lot of neighbors--probably just as undeserving of this lash of nature's power--who could use some help. But still, I am relieved for you. 


When you find peace, tranquility, joy and meaning in holy texts, rites, prayer and the community of your faith, your happiness brings me happiness. When it moves you to help others, YAY. I might roll up my sleeves and give you a hand.  


Where you see a chosen people, a nation blessed, personal wealth and privilege ordained by a higher power; when you interpret every impulse and desire that pops into your head as treemail from the voice of God, and every accomplishment as a divine pat on the back; when you act with the conviction that your faith will be your salvation "in the next life," no matter what you do in this one; when you expend energy to recruit others to your religion and denounce those who reject it; when myths once used to make sense of the natural world have been shown false, yet you persist in advancing them; where "divinely inspired" texts inspire you to harm others . . . 


I sense a threat to our future. 


NOT believing in a supernatural being gives me peace and tranquility. The internet gives me some semblance of a community of like-minded people, but I'd like to follow Thomas Paine's ideal: "My country is the world, and my religion is to do good." The path I am following brings me joy and meaning as long as I put some thought into my footsteps. I'll get off my high horse now and resume on foot.  


I am an atheist. You won't make sense to me if you tell me that faith doesn't require proof, but I know that that works both ways. Maybe we'll find another reason to listen to each other. Let's just move on.   

"We Are All Catholics"--NOT.

Show of hands: who likes sex? 


Now, ladies, keep your hands where they are; fellas, put your hands down and look around. Look at that! We like it too. 


Alright, ladies: keep your hands up if you also think that having sex is bad (wrong, sinful, whatever) unless the sex is with your husband and you are willing to become pregnant. Oh, look; there ARE some of you. Yes, I think I recognize you from Brother John's class; I remember his telling us that the only way a birth control pill could work is if the girl held it between her knees. Aspirin works too, I understand--plus, it's cheaper and available OTC. 


OK, then: keep your hands up if you also believe that having a vagina exempts you from various things--call them rights, liberties, privileges, freedoms, whatever. 


Like controlling whether you become pregnant. 


Like obtaining FDA-approved treatment for certain debilitating illnesses. 


Like access to low-cost health care, if you're poor. 


Like having a voice in laws that primarily impact women. 


Like NOT having a foreign body inserted in your vagina against your will. Some call it rape; others, a condition for getting a legal abortion in some states. Good thing it's not a condition for free speech, too. 


Hey, look, way there in the back: I see you with your hand still proudly raised, Sister! Wow, you really mean it, too--you've got that upright posture, stern look, thin lips, chin thrust right out. Well, I've got some good news and some bad news for you. 


The good news is that no matter who wins the GOP nomination in August, you will have a candidate on the ballot who represents you! The bad news is that he doesn't stand a chance of winning against Barack Obama in November. 


While you watch this confounding era in our nation's history play itself out, Sister, why don't you divert yourself with a good book. Let me recommend The Handmaid's Tale, by Margaret Atwood. 


The rest of us need to speak up about these issues. Men, that includes you, too. The "war on religion" is a Trojan horse, with women's health at stake. 

Coming of Age

Recently, several teenagers (not my own) have expressed to me some interest in discussing or learning more about atheism (mine act as though they've heard more than enough).  


When do people come of age, or reach an age of reason? 


Many faiths seem to tie religious maturity to sexual maturity, as their rites of passage coincide with the onset of puberty. Jewish girls bat mitzvah at age 12, while Jewish boys bar mitzvah at 13; Mormon boys can achieve priesthood at age 12; and Catholic children are confirmed as early as the sixth grade (age 11 or 12). A quick Google search reveals that Islamic kids undergo a change in religious responsibilities once they show physical signs of puberty, though no ritual is performed.  


It is my sense that many people at that age are still well under the influence of indoctrination and the gravitational pull of parental and social approval, while others are merely rebelling against it. They might not have learned much about cultures and belief systems different from those around them. My own mom claims that I've always been an iconoclast, but I never voiced an objection to doing those things that were expected of me in the Catholic Church. 


On the other hand, by that age most kids are in the process of gaining independence of thought and forging their own identities, values, and judgments--ideally, a process that lasts a lifetime. Maybe this is an appropriate age to present an alternative to theism, particularly to someone who has shown a curiosity about it. 


I have no interest in "converting" anyone, but I am happy to discuss and debate what I believe. I also hope that by increasing others' knowledge, I could increase tolerance (ooh--there's that bad word again!) and understanding for non-believers such as myself. 


Back to my initial point: would it be OK for me to talk to someone else's teenager about atheism? Should I seek permission from a parent? If you think so, do you hold the same opinion for more mainstream belief systems? Do you have a problem with people handing out copies of the new testament as kids leave their elementary schools?  


I truly would like to hear your opinions, so I'm posting this jointly on my blog and as a note on Facebook, where it is easier to comment. Please weigh in. 

Evolution of an Atheist

I attended the Texas Freethought Convention over the weekend. It would be impossible to summarize the experience in one (readable) post, so I won't even try. I loved it so much, yet it has left me conflicted in a number of respects. 


Perhaps that is a sign of growth--or evidence of mutation. 


The first conflict is that I have the first stirrings of a compulsion to become more active as an atheist. Such a prospect makes sense on the one hand, but it also makes me uncomfortable. Unfortunately, many people distrust atheists--probably not you, Reader, but after viewing online comment boards following local stories about Giles County schools' posting of the ten commandments and new regulations designed to shut down Planned Parenthood clinics, I was pretty surprised at the level of anger and hatred toward atheists here in southwest Virginia. In my mind, I responded: "You don't even know me. I have contributed, and continue to contribute, a lot to this community--why would you want me to move away?"--because that was pretty much the stock advice for atheists.  


I am a timid person. Before the conference, I liked the idea of being just a normal, everyday person, involved in a variety of interests and activities, who just happens to be an atheist. There are so many of us, you know--or really, you might not know that, because how would you? And I also write this blog, partly for catharsis, partly for therapy, but also in an effort to increase understanding for at least one atheist and in the hopes of dispelling at least a little xenophobia. 


Anyway, after repeated exhortations at the conference for us to GET INVOLVED, I'm wondering if that is sufficient.  


The second one is that I've become more anxious about the effects of sharing my thoughts, feelings and information I'm learning with others around me, who for the most part are religious to one degree or another. My husband grew mildly defensive when I shared with him the quip, available on t-shirts and elsewhere, "Science flies you to the moon; religion flies you into buildings." We all hate terrorism, right? He felt it came across as too superior. 


He also took umbrage at this video of Richard Dawkins in announcing Christopher Hitchens. I thought it was brilliant (to be read with a British accent, of course); he took umbrage.


Here's a picture of me with Mr. Dawkins--thanks again to Gary from the Skeptic Wire Podcast:

I tried to explain to my husband that the focus of the weekend was on theocrats who wish to infuse our secular government with fundamentalist Christianity--at the expense of women's health, civil rights for the LGBT community, scientific advancement, teen pregnancy prevention, and liberty to practice any religion other than fundamentalist Christianity--as well as biblical literalists who wish to deny the fact of evolution and attempt to disrupt our kids' science educations based on a literal reading of the creation myth. Everyone in the audience (I think) was united in opposition to those forces; I didn't think the barbs in the speech were aimed at people like my husband, good people who are religious. 


Well, upon another listen, and another reading of the text, I get his point; it is rather offensive to any theist. Yet I still find it brilliant.


This is what's known in atheist circles as a mixed marriage. One of the presenters at our conference was Dale McGowan, executive director of a humanist charitable and educational foundation called Foundation Beyond Belief, and author of The Meming of Life, a blog centered on secular parenting. This page should provide a good starting point for me to consider as I try to work out this issue (and wait for the publication of Mr. McGowan's upcoming book on mixed marriages).  


So, now I've got some disruptions in how I interact with other organisms in this complex environment. Mutations, if you please. Will selection, natural or otherwise, prove them to be beneficial? 


To quote the Magic 8-Ball, "Cannot predict now." 

September 12

You remember where you were on September 11. Do you remember who you were on September 12? 


Amidst the grief, the anger, the helplessness; amidst the horror, disgust and fury; amidst the hatred toward the men and then-shadowy force that were responsible for this incomprehensible crime, something surprising emerged. 


Party affiliation, nationalism, tribalism, and barriers of almost every kind seemed unimportant, petty, trivial. We regarded each other in a spirit of compassion and concern for our shared well-being. As condolences were sent out from across the country and around the world, as we reached out to family, friends, neighbors and strangers dealing with pain, we became a better people. We set our focus on what unites us, and resolved to overcome the divisions. 


Where did that go? 


As you encounter the numerous imperatives to "Never forget," you probably think first of that day: the victims, the selfless first responders, the heroes on Flight 93. Then you might remember the days since: the grieving loved ones left behind, those military and police forces who put their lives on the line daily to protect us, the firemen and first responders willing to risk their own safety in order to restore ours. 


I hope we can take it one step further, with a focus on the future. As we pray, meditate or reflect, let us all remember who we became on September 12, and aspire to revive that. 

Talk Dirty to Me

Mmm. Bad words. I get off on them--well, some of them. 


Words like tolerance. Reason. Choice. Heliocentric. Evolution. And the subject of today's discourse, secular. 


Bear with me, because I have a bone to pick first. While some words can get me all tingly, I don't like being played. 


A certain element in our society has mastered the art of warping public opinion through calculated public relations campaigns. When I worked in PR, I picked up a book called Words That Work: It's Not What You Say, It's What People Hear by Frank Luntz, thinking it would add an arrow or two to my professional quiver. It mostly just left me feeling slimed.


This is the guy responsible for changing "estate tax" to "death tax"; "oil drilling" to "energy exploration"; "global warming" to "climate change" (though he has since come to believe that humans have contributed to glo--excuse me, climate change); "healthcare reform" to "government takeover"; and "consumer financial protection"--as in, let's guard against a repeat of the the subprime mortgage meltdown and resulting financial disaster--to "excessive bureaucracy." Here you can find more on his memo to Republican lawmakers to ensure public opposition to financial reform legislation, and who is paying for his efforts.  


Back to my point: somewhere along the line, "secular" has become a bad word in some circles. We should revere the canon that fueled so many cannons in the revolutionary war: government and religion should not be intertwined. This was one of the linchpins of the enlightenment, and an axiom of the new United States' government. 


Our constitution specifically, and after great debate, laid down the framework for a secular system of governance. It includes no mention of god or provenance; rather, it comes from "We the People." The bill of rights begins with two clauses ensuring religious neutrality, and bans any religious test for holding public office.


The Treaty of Tripoli, signed during George Washington's presidency and ratified under John Adams's, includes this assurance: "the Government of the United States of America is not, in any sense, founded on the Christian religion." The Baptist Joint Committee's Executive Director has a level-headed post about secularism's role in our political system in this post. 


Did you learn about this in high school? Probably not, and an exceptional book by James Loewen, Lies My Teacher Told Me, can explain why: our American history textbooks suck. They are designed to advance a bland, falsely glowing, overly simplistic narrative and, in an effort to gain adoption from state school boards, avoid any whiff of controversial stuff.  


This insightful essay from the author of Freethinkers and The Age of American Unreason explores the deficiencies in our textbooks and basic education, and argues that freethought and secularism should be integrated at every level of schooling.


Who is behind this campaign to sully secularism? I have no idea. But this blog post chronicles recent examples of defilement, and they are all coming from the religious right.


Talk dirty to me. I don't want trumped-up fairy tales about intelligent designers, a 10,000-year-old Earth, Christian nations and the end times. I want facts. Maybe I can't handle the truth, but I'd rather try: I want to hear about the gritty, disruptive, mistrusted, imperfect, dissident and bold ideas that have fueled true human progress throughout the millennia.  


Oh! The rapture.

We're Very Against Assaulting People

Something really strange happened in southwest Virginia last week. 


A student group called Freethinkers at Virginia Tech was chatting with folks at a table on the Virginia Tech drillfield to promote "Ask an Atheist Day," which I'd never heard of before reading about this. I'm telling you, we're a pretty decentralized bunch. 


Anyway, a kid stood near the table for about an hour, then borrowed a pen from the Freethinkers, drew a cross inside a circle on the back of his own hand, and according to this account, "asked students at the table to stab him in the cross with the pen to 'prove to us God existed.' The students declined." Undaunted, the guy stabbed his own hand with another pen, then assaulted a police officer who responded to the scene and, later, two other officers, as well as breaking out a police car window. 


I'm pleased this kid will be getting some needed mental health treatment and that no one was seriously injured. What I really like most, personally, is the reaction of one of the Freethinkers when the kid initially asked her to give him the stigmata. The article provides this account: "'We don’t believe in assaulting people,' [she] said. 'We’re very against assaulting people.'” I agree with that position statement 100%. 


The article linked above is from CollegiateTimes.com, which is run by students. Notably, none of the other local media outlets covering the story mentioned the religious angle to it. That's probably a good thing, because in addition to being decentralized and against assaulting people, I think atheists would prefer fewer stories about religion-based divisiveness. 


However, I wonder if the story were a little different--say, it was a religious group behind the table and someone wishing to prove that god does NOT exist by stabbing his own hand--whether the media would have shown the same restraint. 


I'm skeptical. 

One of Them Must Be Wrong

I heard a quote this week that sums up my fear of organized religion. 


"Both sides are yelling, God is great, like God's on their side. Shame on you. We used to be united."


The context--well, does it matter? Pick your region, your tribe, your country. Pick your issue, your rationalization. Pick your century. Pick your god; there are so many from which to choose. 


Such a cloak for the exercise of violence, hatred, and conquest is antithetical to greatness, goodness, or even the most modest hope for mankind's future. 


Here is a link to the story for source purposes. But before you dismiss it as something that doesn't happen in your backyard, I suggest you take a better look around. 

No, Thank YOU, George Washington!

Good news for the day after Presidents' Day: it is being reported this morning that the Giles County School Board voted to remove the ten commandments from its walls. Yay!

There are many kind and thoughtful people out there who wanted them to remain up. To them I advise: display a copy of whichever version you ascribe to (there are many different versions, depending on religion) in your home. If you want your children to see them every day, this is the proper place.  

There are also many not-so-kind and not-so-thoughtful people out there who saw this scuffle as an opportunity to declare the United States a Christian nation, and the school board's initial decision as a shot across the bow of secularism. To them I say: let go your wrath. This is a secular nation. This fact is one of the amazing things about the great experiment of our government. It is to be celebrated, not spackled over. 

Missing: the Shoulders of One Giant

Today is Thomas Paine's birthday. The author of Common Sense, Rights of Man and The Age of Reason, he is among those we call "the founding fathers." His writings largely fueled the fire of the American Revolution and inspired many of the bedrock principles of our constitution and bill of rights. John Adams reportedly said, "Without the pen of the author of 'Common Sense,' the sword of Washington would have been raised in vain.”


Why am I writing about him in my atheism blog? Because he is not only the patriot's hero, he's also the secular humanist's. Though he believed in God, he was a deist--one who believes in a divine creator who does not interfere in human affairs. His writings on the subject promote reason above revelation, and rail against intitutionalized religion and Christian doctrines. 


I'll be wearing this t-shirt today:

That image is kind of small; it says, "My country is the world. My religion is to do good."


By the end of his life, his views on religion had so ostracized him in the United States that only a handful of people attended his funeral. His obituary in the New York Citizen included the summary, "He lived long, did some good and much harm." Sheesh. 


Things get really hinky at this point. He wanted to be buried in a Quaker churchyard, but none would receive his body for burial so he was laid to rest under a tree on his farm. Ten years later, William Cobbett, who had written a slanderous biography of Paine but became his #1 fan after actually reading his works, exhumed the remains with the intention of giving him a proper burial in England, Paine's native land. 

What happened next? Let me quote Susan Jacoby's Freethinkers: "[F]or no apparent reason, [Cobbett] kept the bones in a box in his house. His heirs failed to keep track of the remains, so they are lost to posterity--something that probably would not have struck the author of The Age of Reason as a catastrophe." 

But yeah, his bones are missing. 

Low-Hanging Fruit in Giles County

Constitutional issues are low-hanging fruit in a small southern town. Most residents are churchgoers, and most know each others' business, and many are happy to pontificate about what others should and should not be doing. As a result, there is a high degree of complicity when it comes to violations of church-state separation.


Exhibit A: the Giles County School Board. In December, the Freedom from Religion Foundation sent a request to the GCS Superintendent asking that framed copies of the 10 Commandments be removed from schools, as the displays violate the establishment clause and clear Supreme Court precedent. The Superintendent (reportedly on advice of counsel) complied. Yay, FFRF! Yay, Superintendent!


Oops. There must have been some sermonizing over this, because about 200 outraged citizens and preachers showed up at last week's School Board meeting and demanded that the decalogue be rehung. The School Board, too cowardly to make an unpopular decision, voted unanimously to hang them right back up.  


The Bill of Rights is designed to protect individuals from majority rule. No matter how many zealots attend a school board meeting, it is the sworn duty of government officials to uphold the Constitution and protect the minority on matters of race, gender and religion.


In my opinion, the school board members just committed Giles County to a huge bill: not only is the County going to have to defend itself in slam-dunk lawsuits threatened by FFRF and the ACLU, they will likely have to pay the plaintiffs' attorneys fees in any such suits because of their blatant disregard of bedrock constitutional protections and clear precedent. FFRF told them as much in a follow-up letter accessible here, adding that the school board members could be held personally liable too. 


On a positive note, in researching this today I ran across a pretty cool organization: The Baptist Joint Committee for Religious Liberty. Check out this awesome list, "Top 5 Myths of the Separation of Church and State." After reading some outrageously ignorant evangelicals' comments on this news item, it was heartening to discover this page. 


Stay tuned.

What say you?

I lifted this picture from Facebook.


The sign says:
"Obama is not a brown-
skinned anti-war socialist 
who gives away free healthcare.
You're thinking of Jesus." 

Confession

Being raised in a Catholic household does strange things to a person, probably the best known side effect being unwarranted Guilt. 


It can arise, unbidden and unjustifiably, at any moment, as one recalls past events. There is no infraction too minor, nor any statute of limitations. It happened to me this evening. 


I was steeped in the knowledge that the cure for Guilt is to confess and seek absolution, so here goes: 


It was about 12 years ago. We were selling our house in a small town in Georgia. Our agent was motivated to sell our house, as we had a contingency contract to buy another one of her listings. Get it? Big commissions on the line. She scheduled a showing of ours, and let it slip that one of the family members was a minister in a conservative congregation. 


Well, I've mentally run what I did through all the moral and ethical no-no lists I can think of, and I'm pretty sure I have nothing to feel guilty about here, unless you consider targeted home staging wrong.  


Still, I feel a little dirty for using the intel to appeal to the buyers' likely prejudices. I left one lone book in a place of prominence in our living room: Focus on the Family's Complete Book of Baby & Child Care. 


They bought the tableau, and the house. 


Mea culpa. Any suggestions for penance? 

A Season for Reason

A couple of atheist-related things happened this December. 


First, I was interviewed by a graduate student doing his thesis on something about atheists' being the most distrusted segment of society. I think he was hoping for some horror stories; I had none to give him. No one has been rotten to me about my absence of faith (thanks, y'all!). But then again, atheists don't wear insignia or otherwise stand out on the street, so how would you know? Plus, I told him I have no designs on public office and really have nothing at stake, being an already outspoken stay-home mom type. 


Let me tell you this, though: it was good to be able to speak openly with someone interested in the whole atheist experience. One of his questions threw me for a loop: it was something like, "How did you come to believe in atheism?" I don't "believe" in atheism; of all the -isms, it's the least -istic. But after making that clarification, I was happy to talk. 


The other thing that stands out from the interview was not the observation he made, which others have made since I started this blog: that admitting one's atheism is like coming out of the closet for an LGB, as he put it. Rather, it was a related theory he postulated: that atheism is no more a choice than sexual orientation. I believe that's true. 


Like an LGB, I could choose to continue to pretend. But it would be a lie, one that makes me feel like who I really am is wrong. I'm gratified that I don't feel the need to hide. 


Second, I went to church. I know, right? My son and his friend were solo vocalists on Christmas eve, so I couldn't NOT go. Discounting some pervasive cognitive dissonance, it was a beneficial experience. I decided that with one fundamental exception, my underlying philosophy of living isn't too different from the priest's: it's about people, and how you treat them. Especially the tired, poor and humble. Everyone was really huggy afterwards, in the fellowship hall and on Facebook. It was cool. Thanks, Christians! 


I have to admit, it's been a little strange this December not knowing if I should say, "Merry Christmas" to people--or really, whether I should say, "Thank you," when they say it to me. I mean, I'll tell a Jewish person, "Happy Hanukkah." Heck, I've said it to someone I thought was Jewish--twice, actually, before he corrected me. I don't need to correct people, right? My sister-in-law teased me for accepting Christmas presents; her exact taunt was, "Moral convictions be damned!" 


Anyway. A merry month, even for a fledgling self-described atheist. 

Season's Greetings

This will be my first December as an open atheist. Will anything change? Probably not. Hopefully not.  


Here are some things I love about the Christmas season--look, I'll acknowledge the season even if I don't subscribe to the miracle--that might seem inconsistent with non-belief.


I still love to get Christmas and holiday cards, no matter if they're slathered in all manner of religious iconography, especially if they contain a photo or a handwritten note. It's about reaching out to the people in your life, stoking fires that might have been neglected.


I love the memory of what Christmas is through a child's eye. No school; just home. Being bundled in a warm house with Mom baking the cookies her mother used to bake: Brazilian coffee cookies and almondy spritzes, both plain and chocolate. Being bundled in a warm car with Dad driving the family to look at Christmas lights. The glow of little electric candles in your bedroom window after lights out. It's about the connection of generations, being part of something beyond your own self.

I love the Charlie Brown Christmas Special. We'd take the time as a family to watch this each year, bundled on the couch or floor of the family room. My favorite part is the scene with Linus in the spotlight. You'll recall that Charlie Brown is isolated with his pitiful tree on the right side of the stage, while all his friends--including his dog--are on the left. "Lights, please." Linus quotes the story of Jesus' birth as told in the book of Luke. Slow down, take a deep breath, quietly reflect. "And on earth peace, and goodwill toward men." Things got better for old Charlie Brown after that. It's not about gaudy decorations or presents; it's about love. 

I love this poem by Phillips Brooks, an Episcopal priest: 


O little town of Bethlehem,
How still we see thee lie!
Above thy deep and dreamless sleep
The silent stars go by.
Yet in thy dark streets shineth
The everlasting Light;
The hopes and fears of all the years

Are met in thee to-night.

The everlasting Light, electric candles, Christmas tree lights, menorah. The warmth of hearth, ovens, heaters, blankets. We all find tidings of comfort and joy in these symbols of love. 


Yoga classes conclude with "Namaste," a greeting I learned meant, "The light in me salutes the light in you." Wikipedia divulges a number of other meanings, including this nugget: "I honor the place in you in which the entire Universe dwells, I honor the place in you which is of Love, of Integrity, of Wisdom and of Peace. When you are in that place in you, and I am in that place in me, we are One."


To my family, Christian, Jewish and otherwise, to my friends new and old, to Luke, Fr. Brooks, Charles Schulz, and to all of you, I say:


Merry Christmas. Happy Hannukah. Season's greetings. Namaste.  

Six Minutes of Awesome

Can an atheist feel awe, you ask? Sure! 

I had an interesting conversation recently. A good friend expressed her displeasure at the choice of religious music on the bill at our school's winter choral concert. She's a religious skeptic, though perhaps not an atheist. Her point was that a public school concert should not be so heavily heavenly. 

Me? I have absolutely no problem with it. None whatsoever. I have openly wept at this concert (my kids won't sit with me any more). "Stirring," "inspiring" and "moving" don't capture the impact on me of these young voices harmonizing in such a solemn manner. 

Hey, I'll take beauty where I can find it. I think it's safe to say that all great works of art have been created from inspiration. In recorded history, in the Western world (familiar to me), a good chunk of that art was created as a tribute to the Judeo-Christian god. I've seen this:

and this:

--and been moved by their magnificence. We don't have to mourn Pharoah Khufu to appreciate the stark beauty in this feat of human effort, right?

So today I was treated to another exalting experience. Background: I LOVE the idea of flash mobs. One of my friends who knows this about me was kind enough to share this link today. In a recent "Random Act of Culture," 650 choristers gave Christmas shoppers a surprise treat when they performed the Hallelujah chorus from Handel's Messiah at the downtown Philadelphia Macy's. Please watch the video (there, I linked it again); it will bring you six minutes of awesome today. 

And then indulge my cynicism: is that majestic department store (complete with THE WORLD'S LARGEST operational pipe organ) a cathedral of capitalism? 

Report from the Front Line of Reason

I drove to Washington, D.C. this weekend to join the Rally to Restore Sanity. Though the massive crowd prevented us from actually seeing the program, it was wonderful to be in such a diverse crowd with one thing in common: mutual respect. 

A group of people on the steps of the National Gallery of Art - East held a sign proclaiming themselves atheists, but I felt no urge to jog up and say "Hi! I'm one of you!" even though I was wearing my insider's t-shirt. Atheists might never become a strong political voice in this country--there's just nothing there to ritualize. I'm cool with that as long as society neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg, to paraphrase Thomas Jefferson.   

Okay, I did overhear one skinhead say that he felt like punching someone, but of the tens of thousands of people we came into contact with--actual physical contact, that is--he was way outnumbered. So much humor, so much tolerance, so much positivity. It was a beautiful experience. 

We the people came together on an achingly beautiful day in the Garden of Giants.

The Devil Does, Indeed, Wear Prada

So I read this compelling article saying, essentially, that it's high time to address rising income inequality. 


I have a couple of really loaded friends who might take a few moments from chasing their capitalist dreams to read this entry, so I'm going out on a limb when I say this, but: duh. 


In my Catholic high school, Fr. Caffrey taught us the following definition at the beginning of one term: "Religion is the answer to the questions of the mysteries of life." An intellectually playful man, he had a glint in his eye when he told us weeks later that to some people, sports are a religion. I was all like, "What?" and he happily supported his thesis that to some people, sports are the answer to the questions of the mysteries of life. I can't remember how, but that's not important; what's important is that critical moment in my life when I started to wonder, "What's so sacred about religion?"


I personally know some people who regularly worship a supernatural deity, and who live in accordance with the principles of humanism--which is not the subversive philosophy I was indoctrinated to believe when I learned about the Scopes trial. These people are a credit to humanity and a testament to their religion. But let me put them aside for a moment. 


I think we all know people whose actions evince worship of other gods, regardless of where their dress slacks sit of a sabbath morning. Some of them are alchemists who have discovered a magic formula. "P" stands for power here: 


$ + P = 2$ + 3P. 


Talk about the magic of compounding! 


It is my contention that the upcoming elections are not about witchcraft, small town folks, Main Street, big government, tax relief, deregulation, race, masturbation, gun control, family values, global warming, marriage equality, small business, and certainly not the Constitution or the principles upon which our country was founded, EXCEPT--and this is a big except--to the extent they serve the First Church of Getting Richer. 


For more on this, I invite you to read what I consider Justice Stevens's swan song, his brilliant dissenting opinion in Citizens United v. FEC. It's long, but never tedious. If you don't have the time or inclination, perhaps it can be summed up in its sad reference to the following quote from Thomas Jefferson: "I hope we shall crush . . . in [its] birth the aristocracy of our monied corporations which dare already to challenge our government to a trial of strength and bid defiance to the laws of our country." That's in footnote 54. 


OK, I'm going to go enjoy this gorgeous, sunny day with my dog now. 
  

The Wall of Separation is a Load-Bearing Wall

So let me tell you about last night's local city council meeting. I'm going to give you the version that won't appear in the papers, because it's subjective, subtle, and based in part on hearsay and a little guesswork, but it is quite revealing--and hey, this is my blog, not court. 


It was a light agenda, only three items. One of them was "Council will consider whether to move Halloween trick or treating, from Sunday, October 31, 2010 to Saturday, October 30." This proposal was raised by a newly elected city council member at its previous meeting two weeks ago. The reason? Because of church. He made some noise about how it was also out of concern for Sunday's being a school night, but given that Radford traditionally has trick-or-treating on Halloween, without regard for the day of the week, this can be striken as an obvious pretext. 


I should be a judge [Correction: see comments]. 


Citizen comments come near the start of the meeting, before council begins discussing items of new business. The agenda contains two instructions for citizen comments: state your name, and limit it to five minutes. The goodly mayor repeated these instructions at the beginning of this portion: state your name, and limit it to five minutes. 


One citizen (OK, she's one of my best friends, but that's not relevant here) stated her name and spoke about the inconvenience, confusion and significant disruption this would cause. She made a great case and kept it under five minutes. 


The next person did NOT state his name. He did, however, offer a rebuttal to my friend, saying, "What you've gotta realize, this is on a church night." At one point, he pointed toward my friend and questioned her religious beliefs, and not in a nice way; he said, "I don't know what HER belief is, but . . ." I'm calling him The Pointer. 


The next citizen also neglected to state his name [Correction: see comments]. He said, "[It's] a matter of keeping the Sabbath day, that's . . . what it is for me and him" (indicating the previous speaker). 


I'm assuming that's what it was too for the city council member who brought it up in the first place. See, the reason no one asked The Pointer to state his name is because, as I later learned, he's the council member's father [Correction: see comments]. I'm guessing the next speaker is also known to the council member, perhaps through his church. 


Three more people (including me) presented opposition to the move. We all stated our names, we all kept it under five minutes. If I'm not mistaken (public speaking throws me into my own personal hell of anxiety, so I don't remember everything perfectly), each one of the four of us expressed respect for others' religious beliefs. 


Apparently, respect is a one-way entitlement. I was told later that the council member who raised the issue, as well as the other recently elected member--who included church involvement in his campaign materials--could be seen rolling their eyes during comments in opposition.


The relationship between church and state in our country has become almost incestuous in recent years. It's not supposed to be this way. Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, John Adams, Benjamin Franklin and Thomas Paine went to great lengths specifically to ensure that it wouldn't.  


The rest of my story is that no council member made a motion to consider the proposal, so they neither discussed nor voted on it. Trick or treating will be on Halloween. 


Thank you, Founding Fathers. Over 200 years later, and you've still got our backs.

If It Says "Lib" on the Label

"Lib" as in liberal, of course. 


Labels on canned goods are a good thing. They provide a lot of information you need--what's in the can, how much is in there, whom to sue when you get sick. 

But with people--we know not to judge a book by its cover, right? Was it Kierkegaard or Dick Van Patten who said, "If you label me, you negate me?" 

People are complicated. Liberal, conservative, moderate; Catholic, Sikh, atheist (maybe I should capitalize that to give it more gravitas); straight, gay, bi; big-endian, little-endian, vegan; capitalist, Nazi, Stalinist; pro-life, pro-family, pro-choice;  environmentalist, clean coal advocate, BP stockholder.      


When I was a kid, the Department of Health, Education and Welfare had a PSA that must have run during Saturday morning cartoons, because--like the Preamble to the Constitution (props to Schoolhouse Rocks!)--I can recite it by heart. An old man and his grandson are fishing in a rowboat on a quiet lake. Gramps calls out the kid for being a bigot--do you remember this? "Jimmy is one of my Jewish friends." "Well then, you are prejudiced. You think of Jimmy as your Jewish friend, and not your friend." 


Sometimes, people do you a favor by telegraphing their own prejudices*. For instance, "I'm not a racist, but . . ." has never in the history of mankind been followed by anything but a racist comment. Most Facebook postings using the plural "liberals" or "conservatives" telegraph the writers' prejudices (and fondness for straw man arguments).  


But like life, like people, using labels is complicated. If I have a vegetarian over for dinner, I know I should make some meat-free foods. If I'm having a happy hour and invite a Mormon friend, it's hospitable to offer Fresca and root beer in addition to margaritas and microbrews. Labels aren't all bad. 


Maybe the point is to start with the cover, then look deeper into the book. Or maybe the point is that it's really not our place to judge human volumes at all.   


*Also be wary of any statement following the words, "I'm gonna be honest with you," or "Trust me," or "Of course, you know that . . ." People rarely argue with "Of course." Trust me. I use it a lot, to be honest with you. Check the first line of this entry.