
When I made the decision to become the Phoenix Atheism Examiner, I had to accept that it was going to be much more than a title. I assumed that writing this column was going to invite hate mail from a few readers and possibly alienate me from some friends and family, but I am taking that risk. It’s not, after all, the most popular point of view in this country today. After publishing my first two articles under this new title, which were mostly only informational in nature, I saw my aforementioned assumptions come true. If some people only used to dismiss or ridicule my views before, they are shunning me entirely now. They’ve made me feel as if atheism is somehow a dirty little secret.
This article is not specifically a “coming out” story for me. I have been an atheist for a long time, and although I have not kept it a secret, I wasn’t really public about it until about a year ago. What I do want to discuss is a little about how I arrived at atheism by sharing some of my experiences and thoughts. I hope those of you out there who are still “in the closet” as atheists will find some courage in what I have to say.
Growing up, the vast majority of my mom’s side of the family was, and still remains Catholic. My dad’s side were believers, but as far as I knew, not steady church goers. As a baby I was baptized in a Catholic church and I did attend a Christian pre-school, but I don’t remember a thing about either of those events. In our house, though, we never attended church and religion may have been an occasional topic of discussion, but it certainly was not a significant part of my upbringing (I can hear my mom’s Catholic guilt groaning right now). This is a very important point. The information and support were always available, but I was allowed to think for myself and to choose my own path.
None of my childhood friends and I ever really discussed religion, but many of them and their families were church-goers. Looking back, I can remember the uncomfortable, somewhat condescending looks I’d get from their parents as they were getting ready for church on Sundays and it was clear that I didn’t attend. It wasn’t until I reached high school that I started to realize the magnitude and the impact of religion on people’s lives. It was then that I began to question religion. They were actually very simple questions, such as: “If God loves us, why did he create diseases?”, “If God created EVERYTHING, doesn’t that mean he created the devil?” and “If men wrote the bible, how do you know it’s true?” Every time I asked those questions, I never received logical answers. It always came down to the infamous ‘leap of faith’ explanation.
I spent all of my 20s and my early 30s trying out different churches, asking more questions, and studying a lot about religion. The more I learned and the more I experienced, the less believable it all was. I found that the claims for religion being true fall apart quite easily under even the simplest of critical thinking and reasoning. Add historical and scientific evidence to the mix and it’s just a fact: religions are man-made myths. I found myself thinking, “Gee, if religion or belief in God is SUCH an important part of someone’s life, you’d think they would really put more rigorous thought into it.”
That’s when it hit me.
When I say there is no God, it doesn’t offend people because of their religious beliefs. It offends them because I am saying that they are wrong about something. It’s an issue of personal ego, which is a more accurate term here than pride (although I’m certain many of them will disagree). I am asking people why they believe in supernatural myths that don’t have a shred of evidence as to their being supernatural. I am asking people to apply the same standards and measures of reasoning and logic to their religion as they would apply to any history book, police investigation, legislation or personal financial investment. I am asking people to abandon the comfort that comes with pack mentality – that desire to be associated with an accepted majority. This is understandably one of the most difficult things for people to do. I’ll end this by taking it one step further and saying that I think most people secretly know what I do about their religions, which suggests to me that atheism is really their dirty little secret, not ours.