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His noodly appendage

In the past week or so, I’ve spent a good deal of time in the company of some devout Christians. It’s not something I ordinarily do – not because I go out of my way to avoid them, I just don’t tend to move in those circles.

Of course, when you start out not realising that the people you’re hanging out with are Christians, and then it slowly begins to dawn on you that they are, you quickly start to go back through your mind trying to recall whether you’ve said anything that could be construed as offensive. At least, that’s what I do.

But partly because the people I was with were cool, interesting, creative and intelligent people, and partly because we’d gone out for a drink and it was an interesting pub conversation, the caution on my part gave way to a bit of open debate.

In fact, it put me in a position where I had to really revisit what I think about God, religion and church. And revisiting it has brought further clarity.

For the record, I’m an atheist, though I do happen to think the world is a wonderful and surprising place.

As a bit of background, I was a teenage church-goer – quite serious for a while – I was in what I guess would pass for a Christian band in my early 20s (though we didn’t really flaunt that bit) and I was sort of vexed by religion well into my 20s, until I was pretty much able to shake it off entirely.

But as the central defining Western mythology, and as the provider of archetypes for pretty much everything in the art and cultural world of my experience, I think the Bible is really important. Knowing its stories is helpful to make your way in the world and understand our culture and its legal and institutional framework as well as our art and heritage – but religion itself is not for me.

Anyway – the argument went down some fairly well-rehearsed lines about the problem of knowledge and how you can be sure of things that don’t have empirical proof.

One example given was: “When you’re in a relationship do you believe your wife/partner loves you? Have you proved it? Conducted experiments? Or are you basing it on cumulative evidence of her (or his) behaviour and your instincts and making life decisions accordingly?”

jesus
Some delightful children’s drawings of a man being tortured to death

I gave it some serious thought, and my response was pretty much as follows:

I accept a lot of things. I don’t only believe things that are ‘proven’.

For instance, I believe my wife loves me – because of what she says and does, of course – but sometimes also even in spite of what she might say or do. But if I’d never met, seen, heard, touched, or genuinely communicated with her – I’d not only have significant cause for doubt – I’d be mad to imagine such a thing. And if I insisted on a personal relationship with such a ‘wife’, my friends would be right to call me delusional.

Being told by a particular cultural orthodoxy to act as if a particular intangible, ineffable being was in play doesn’t make it convincing for me. You may as well be making a case for allowing any and every possibility – the Flying Spaghetti Monster proposition, for instance.

I prefer for things of that magnitude to involve some sort of direct experience, like you get with politics, for instance. But even so, I can get down with theoretical physics. Even gravity is just a theory. But these scientific explanations are at least convincing ideas tested by people I have reason to trust, who have no particular power agenda to push and who (most importantly) would change their mind in a heartbeat if a more convincing explanation for the universe was found.

In other words, my position is not the one that demands certainty.

Religion has no such self-healing properties. Its general insistence on complete authority, infallibility, and that followers simply accept dogma – often concerning contradictory, self-serving and frequently unhelpful, antisocial things – on faith is, to me, preposterous and corrupt.

A decade in or around the church and a fairly good amount of reading and thinking has led me to no direct experience or even convincing ideas – just interesting notions and metaphors of varying quality. Some of them inspiring, some of them downright repellent.

I don’t know anyone who would attest to the divine authority of the Bible who can also reconcile the tyrannical Yahweh with the God of Love. Or who can declare a homosexual to be an abomination without judging lest they be judged. Or who can convincingly deal with the so-called ‘problem of pain’. Or who can get around these dilemmas without arbitrarily declaring parts of the Bible to be history, parts to be allegory, others to be pure metaphor and still more bits to be strictly relevant only in their historical context. It’s a complete fudge.

But essentially – and most importantly – when someone says the word ‘God’, I tend to substitute with the word ‘Magic’.

It’s a suspension of disbelief for the most unlikely of propositions, and only cultural myopia and dominant authoritarian structures allow any of us to continue to sustain them.

But I do like some of the books (Job being my favourite that made the cut – though some of the Apocrypha are also great fun) – and I enjoy having a drink and a conversation with interesting people who can sustain a good debate.

The title of this post is borrowed from the lyrics to King Kapisi’s Reverse Resistance