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It’s in the fourth chapter of Genesis, right after Adam and Eve sinned and got sent out of the Garden of Eden. Adam and Eve start having kids, and two of those kids are Cain and Abel. Cain is a farmer, but Abel tends to flocks.

God is very much around in the story, and these brothers naturally want to please Him. So they offer up sacrifices.

Cain gives fruit from the ground (which, considering that the ground had been cursed by God after he had kicked Adam and Eve out of the Garden of Eden, must have been no small feat).

Abel, on the other hand, sacrifices the firstborn of some of his flock to God.

God likes Abel’s sacrifice. He doesn’t like Cain’s.

So Cain, out of jealousy, kills Abel. When God finds out, he punishes Cain by making him a wanderer on the earth, instead of the comfortable farmer he had been, because the ground won’t produce fruit for him (in effect, God has cursed the ground twice now). Cain is afraid that this wandering and the fact that he killed his brother will cause others (which would include, presumably, Abel’s other brothers and sisters) to kill him on sight. He voices this fear to God, and God responds by putting a mark on Cain that will apparently keep anyone from harming him.

Now, the typical Christian interpretation of this story is that God liked Abel’s sacrifice more because Abel gave from the “firstborn” of his flock. Cain just randomly gave up some of his crops and called it good. So Abel gave the greater sacrifice.

From there, many preachers have encouraged their congregation to give their best to God.

Great sermon to preach before the collection plate is passed around for the pastor’s salary.

For proof, I Googled: “Cain and Able meaning” and the first link, after the Wikipedia article, stated this:

“God showed favor upon Abel’s sacrifice because it was an offering that came from the best Abel had to give.”

Except…the Bible doesn’t say that.

It doesn’t say that Cain brought second-rate fruit of his labor to God. It said he brought “some” of the fruits of his labor to God.

And, logically, if this was important enough to Cain for him to kill his brother over it, it seems logical that he didn’t bring God rotten fruit. He probably brought God the best of the best.

Seen this way, God’s judgment seems arbitrary. That’s the way I’ve seen it ever since I became an atheist. God’s bloodthirsty impulse was arbitrary and nonsensical.

But…

Maybe this whole exercise is looking at the issue from the wrong angle.

Maybe I shouldn’t be asking why a God would do this – after all, God isn’t real.

Maybe it’s more productive to ask why someone would write that God did this.

When you do that, the answer presents itself.

You see, in the Early Bronze Age, when the Israelites were (allegedly) trapped in the desert for forty years or so, there was a rivalry. On the one hand, there were the settled farmers – the Canaanites, who God allegedly commanded the Israelites to slaughter, would be in this category.

On the other, there were the shepherds, the tenders of flocks and herds. The Israelites, wanderers of the desert and descendants themselves of the livestock-owning Abraham, would be in this category.

So the story may be as simple as this: The writer needed a God who was squarely on the side of the unsettled shepherds, the Israelites – represented by Abel. The writer also needed a farmer who would be seen as dangerous – perhaps dangerous enough to kill. This farmer is Cain.

However, the moment Cain stops being a farmer and begins being a wanderer due to God’s curse…God has mercy on him because the writer of the story (himself a member of a wandering tribe) can empathize with Cain’s new change of circumstances.

But…the root of the story is the same. Farmers are at odds with shepherds in this Early Bronze Age myth, and God is squarely on the side of the shepherds.

This myth, and others like it in the Bible, becomes a license to slaughter Canaanite men, women, and children who just so happen to be on the wrong side of this farmer-shepherd rivalry.

When you look at it this way – as a way to instill a God who protects a nationalistic sense of superiority and rather dangerous prejudices – suddenly the story makes sense.

I wish I could say that it’s a good thing that we don’t use the story this way today…but unfortunately I can’t, because we do.

In the 19^th century, the Mark of Cain was associated with black skin in the US and became part of the rationale for slavery. The same myth that was originally intended to encourage slaughter of the Canaanites became the basis of slavery in those moments, as well.

This makes it even more obvious to me that this myth was written as a tool for creating a rationale that would make one people group inferior to another.

I think that the harm this myth has done in history holds a powerful lesson for us today, Christian, atheist, or otherwise. We have to examine stories that are told about other people – both in the Bible and outside of the Bible, no matter how revered – and figure out whether they are actually true, or merely meant to license injustice. Mythical lies told about Canaanites, or black people, or immigrants, or a member of the LGBTQ community, or any other group can only be exposed if we realize that they are stories people made up for their own reasons.

And in that way, the story of Cain and Abel speaks more to me now than it ever did when I was a Christian.

Thank you for reading.

//When the woman saw that the fruit of the tree was good for food and pleasing to the eye, and also desirable for gaining wisdom, she took some and ate it. She also gave some to her husband, who was with her, and he ate it.// — Genesis 3:6

//A woman a should learn in quietness and full submission. I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became a sinner.// — 1 Timothy 2:11-13

As an atheist the literal story of Adam and Eve in the Garden of Eden seems a bit outrageous, if I’m going to be honest.

Given the complexity of morality, the thought that it originated from two naked people in a garden eating fruit from a tree at the prompting of a talking snake…really? This is where we get all the varying complexities of morality from?

I mean, c’mon. It’s clearly a myth.

But even as a myth, it has had enormous impact, in my life and in the life of billions. So when I read it, I’m interested in what the myth does in the minds of so many people.

And I’ve noticed that most of the time, Christians seem to read the story as one of God being in the right, and humans and the snake being in the wrong. Eve should’ve not eaten from the fruit; if she did, we might be chilling in the Garden right now.

As an atheist, though, I see the mythical dilemma as a litmus test for humanity. Would human beings live the rest of their lives unquestioning, undoubting, blindly following?

Or…would they ask questions? Would they dare to doubt? Would they test? Would they look for a rationale?

Maybe the myth of the Garden of Eden was born because of this contradiction between faith and reason – which would human beings choose?

It might be a warning to choose faith, to not look behind the curtain, to blindly follow instructions. At least, this might be what the writer wanted those under his charge to choose. The point of religion has, historically, usually been to keep people in line. Blind faith can do that.

But in my morality…I choose not to merely blindly walk in faith. I want to look behind the curtain. I choose reason. I want rationales for moral systems.

The fact that the woman makes the initial choice to eat the fruit, not the man, indicates that the writer is trying to silence women’s capacity to reason, to defy authority – almost as if seeking a rationale for moral structures is especially bad for women. The indication is that there is real danger from women choosing to look behind the curtain and testing the morality that they are supposed to take on faith.

Paul makes this intent to silence women clear in the New Testament when stating in 1 Timothy 2:11-13:

A woman a should learn in quietness and full submission. I do not permit a woman to teach or to assume authority over a man; she must be quiet. For Adam was formed first, then Eve. And Adam was not the one deceived; it was the woman who was deceived and became a sinner.

As a black man in America, I relate. There is a major contingent in White America that does not want me to ask too many questions about the structure of right and wrong in my country. There is a long history of black people in this country who have been told to read the Bible as a way to keep them quiet and controlled.

And that’s what was expected of Eve in the Genesis myth. She was to be quiet and controlled, listen to the man, and not eat the fruit.

The writer of Genesis clearly wanted her decision to eat the fruit to make her the immoral danger of the story.

But in my mind these days, she’s the principled hero.

In the myth, she didn’t just blindly listen to her husband. She didn’t live the entirety of her life in silent obedience. She was brave enough to test the conventional wisdom of her time, from the beginning, and lead humanity into a rational examination of right and wrong.

And she likely knew there would be consequences for it. I mean, she was disobeying the powerful in the story – which is what pulling back the curtain often requires. You make the powerful upset. Sometimes you have to live with the consequences of making them upset your entire life.

But sometimes it is worth that price to be free.

Silent, faith-based ignorance can be a lot more comfortable. It can give you a blissfulness that rivals the mythical Garden of Eden. But that blissfulness also is a trap, a prison…upkept by the powerful who want you to stay there.

I used to resent Eve as a Christian. After all, if it hadn’t been for her, I thought, I might be living in the Garden of Eden. But I think I was wrong. The Garden of Eden was paradise…but it was also a prison of blissful ignorance.

And Eve is a mythical representation of the reason that holds the capacity to set us free.

I don’t believe the Genesis story anymore, but I was a Christian for 28 years, and the stories – outrageous as they seem to me – are myths that are still in my bones. Looking honestly at the Genesis Garden of Eden story, away from the censure of church, Bible studies, pastors, and the obligation to have faith, gives me a profound respect for what the character of Eve represents.

The point of the story is that, when investigation and reason is chosen over blind faith, the knowledge of good and evil is born.

There are consequences to this knowledge, including a loss of ignorance’s bliss. But the freedom is worth it, at least to me.

Thanks for reading.

 

 

//God said, “Let us make mankind in our image, in our likeness, so that they may rule over the fish in the sea and the birds in the sky, over the livestock and all the wild animals,[a] and over all the creatures that move along the ground.” So God created mankind in his own image, in the image of God he created them; male and female he created them.// Genesis 1:26027

//The Lord God formed a man from the dust of the ground and breathed into his nostrils the breath of life, and the man became a living being.// Genesis 2:7

//I’d like to go by climbing a birch tree,
And climb black branches up a snow-white trunk
Toward heaven, till the tree could bear no more,
But dipped its top and set me down again.
That would be good both going and coming back.
One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.// – Robert Frost

//We are part of the universe. We are in the universe and the universe is in us.// ― Neil deGrasse Tyson

//The universe is under no obligation to make sense to you.// ― Neil deGrasse Tyson

I’ve been thinking quite a bit about how much a human being is worth. Oh, we have all these nice concepts about human dignity, about what it means to be human. Neil Degrasse Tyson can wax eloquent in words that make ears quiver about how we are literally stardust. Carl Sagan has that interesting concept of the pale blue dot. And there is an army of philosophers who are there to tell us who we are. And all this is besides the concepts of who religion tells us we are – souls on the path of enlightenment, children of God, and so on and so forth.

The older I get, the less questions of objective worth and value make sense to me. “Value” is a subjective concept, all the way down to the dregs. We make up “value” based on things we want and desire. I can’t shake the reasoning that value is never something that exists “out there,” as if we could appeal to the ether or some mystical concept for its existence. It is always within us, within our own experience, our own judgment, our own wants and dislikes.

In a way, the search for value “out there” in some objective sense seems an attempt to relinquish responsibility for our own valuations. That’s all the concept of God is to me, really – an attempt by human beings to gain value without taking responsibility for it. Because it’s hard to stand in front of a universe that does not care about you and say, “I’m valuable” and realize that you are the only one who can really proclaim it, and that you are the only one to whom that proclamation can matter. It’s lonely.

And then there’s the other wearisome thing – this whole exercise we do our entire lives of convincing people that we are valuable enough to them for them to give us what we want, from a scrap of bread to zealous respect. It’s all very draining. And God is a nice short cut – no longer do you have to beg and plead to be valuable. This concept of God says you’re valuable, and does it all for you. Or at least, so the preachers claim.

Outside of church, the concept of human value sometimes seems so disturbingly simple: Value is made up, but admitting it’s made up is scary and lonely and forces us into uncomfortable rationalizations, so we make up stories about value so that we can make the concept of value feel less lonely and more universal.

And yet…maybe the concept of us giving value to ourselves doesn’t have to be lonely, if you flip the coin over…

We did not come into this universe as aliens of it. We were not somehow placed here and abandoned; we are part of this universe. All of it, from the stars to rat dung, is ultimately part of the same universe that we are part of. We aren’t just children of the universe – logically, we are part of the universe. So when we’re looking at the universe to care about us, because we’re lonely…maybe we’re wasting our time – not because the universe doesn’t care, but because we are the universe, or at least inseparable parts of it, and so we are the universe valuing ourselves.

When I think this way, I see parallels in the conflicting Creation stories I grew up believing.

No, I don’t believe God is real anymore. But I do see signs that the writers of Genesis probably had to deal with the same problem I had to deal with: How do we establish that humans are valuable?

The writer of Genesis used the concept of God as a tool to give human beings unquestioned value, and said God made us in His image. Convenient. You have this Being that is removed from all of our worry and concern about value, who is indisputably valuable, and then you say that you were created in this valuable being’s image. Problem of value solved.

Except not really. Because then there’s the other side of things. When we die, we turn into dust. We are inseparable from the rest of existence. We can try to create a God that will take us away from this dust, allowing us to rise above it and be unquestioningly more valuable than all of it, but that doesn’t change the fact that we all sink down back into the dust. And so the Genesis writer(s) needed another story – one in which the first man was not made in God’s image, but made out of dust, and thus intricately connected with the lowest of all existence.

The weird thing is that the two stories are never resolved. Was man created in the image of God, or out of dust? The Bible never answers the question.

I have to admit than when I think about life as an atheist, I embrace a similar dualism. In my everyday life, and in most discussions on politics and similar matters, I take human dignity for granted. I realize we are all indisputably valuable. I protect the concept of the valuable human being at every turn, as if it is objective and sealed in stone.

But also, in my bones I realize that I am not separated from the rest of existence, but inseparably connected to everything from the stars in the sky to the dust of the ground. I am not inherently more valuable than anything in the universe; I only choose to think I am, in a matter of speaking.

I know there’s a contradiction there, and I don’t think I’m any closer to solving it than the Genesis writer(s) were. But I think about it a lot, and in the tension between unquestioned value and dust, I feel I taste an honest portrait of human value.

Thanks for reading.

How do you define human value? Feel free to let me know in the comments.

The answer to why I became an atheist is very simple: I found out God isn’t real.

It wasn’t that I had bad parents.
It wasn’t that I was depressed.
It wasn’t that church treated me bad.
It wasn’t that I was the “wrong” kind of Christian.
It wasn’t that I read the Bible too much (or too little).
It wasn’t that I didn’t pray enough.
It wasn’t that I was “in rebellion.”

So, my local atheist group, the Metroplex Atheists, bravely put up posters throughout downtown Fort Worth to kick-start their campaign to change the national motto (you can read more about it here).

By the way, Fort Worth is a city of about a million people, and part of a larger metropolitan area that is about 7 million people strong.

Fort Worth is also in Texas, a famously conservative state.

And the banners were put up just before the 4th of July, when Fort Worth hosted the largest fireworks show in North Texas (and maybe all of Texas).

As a result, as hundreds of thousands of Texans headed to Fort Worth for the big 4^th of July celebration…they saw the banners were flying high, reading: “In No God We Trust.”

Now, I don’t want to downplay the people who respected freedom of speech and didn’t take down the banners. There were several of them, and while we may disagree when it comes to religion, I’m glad we agree that the First Amendment means something.

But…

There are several who want to run roughshod over the US Constitution.

And at least one of them did this:

They seem to have done it to at least six banners so far, and there were only four replacement banners. That would mean that at least two are permanently down, due to the work of people like Johnny David, as he stated in a recently deleted post (the Metroplex Atheists have a screenshot).

I, for one, don’t want these vandals to destroy our message.

I want the banners to stay up. I want more campaigns like this. I want a strong, vibrant atheist community in Fort Worth. And this takes brave people, fighting upstream, a lot of time, and money.

The banners obviously weren’t free; they cost about $4,000, no small feat for a relatively small local atheist group.

And they were time-consuming to put up – it took about 2 years of working with the powers that be in Fort Worth.

This hard work shouldn’t be discouraged by vandalism.

I want other atheist groups to be encouraged by these campaigns, not discouraged because they are afraid of the consequences.

Personally, I think an atheist group with this courage, foresight, and dedication should be supported. And I think that those who are vandalizing these posters should be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

If you agree, and you want the Metroplex Atheists to be successful in this campaign and other endeavors, encourage them by donating here.

You can also show your support with an “In No God We Trust” T-Shirt, which can be purchased here (although the shirt is being sold through local YouTube channel Atheist Edge, the proceeds from selling the shirt will be donated to the Metroplex Atheists).

And the next time we do something that touches your godless heart, or these vandals are caught and punished, or another atheist group joins this campaign…you’ll have the satisfaction of having something to do with it.

Thanks for reading.

The atheist banners are part of a campaign to change the national motto from “In God We Trust” to “E Pluribus Unum.” The first event of the campaign is an educational seminar that will be held from 3PM to 5PM on July 14th, 2019 in the IRIS room at the Fort Worth Botanical Gardens located at 3220 Botanic Garden Blvd, Fort Worth, Texas. Speakers include Metroplex Atheist President Courtney Stewart and American Atheists Gulf Coast Regional Director Aron Ra.

For more on the purpose of the campaign and why I support it, read here.

Thanks to Jim Hall from Atheist Edge for contributing key information regarding the cost of the banners.

“In No God We Trust.”

Thus saith the banners lining Main Street, where over 8 million tourists a year (not to mention the locals) walk in downtown Fort Worth.

Texas. Right smack dab in the soul of Bible Belt country.

The banners are part of an initiative to change the motto from “In God We Trust” to “E Pluribus Unum” – or, “Out of the many, one.” On July 14, 2019 Metroplex Atheist president Courtney Stewart and Aron Ra, two local atheists, will be discussing the need for the change.

If you need convincing that this change is needed, all you need to do is look at the intolerance in much of the city of Fort Worth.

Take for instance Matt Kimbrow, a local artist whose songs regularly rank high on the Texas charts. He wrote the following in a public post:

I can’t believe the city of Fort Worth is allowing this downtown. The signs offend me and should to everyone that has strong faith. I’ll be messaging Mayor Betsy Price. Kinda hard to support a city that lets this happen.

Outrageous.

Matt Kimbrow, I live here. I’m an atheist. Day in, day out, I support the city of Fort Worth, in spite of the fact that I’m surrounded by Christian billboards, churches, bus signs, banners…hell, even my MONEY has “In God We Trust” on it.

And I don’t roll my eyes and moan about it. Why? Because we live in a free country. Because there’s a First Amendment. Because I have more confidence in my non-belief than you apparently do in your belief, and I don’t need to be coddled 24/7 in a cocoon that protects me from the fact that other people disagree with me.

Matt Kimbrow, you need to wake up and get a grip.

I think that Matt Kimbrow is a perfect example of why we need to change our motto. “In God We Trust” gives some people the wrong idea, as if they own our country, as if they can only support this country when other people fit their cookie-cutter version of belief.

That’s not the America I want to live in. I want to live in a more harmonious America, one in which we recognize our diversity and differences, and work for the humanity of each other in the midst of these differences.

Courtney Stewart and Aron Ra, two local atheists, are striving to make that point in the event the banners are promoting.

And for once, they aren’t alone.

Even Betsy Price, the conservative Christian mayor of Fort Worth, is begrudgingly on their side (bless her heart). As she stated after her office was overrun with calls:

I was appalled when I saw the banners currently being displayed downtown, as I do not support or agree with the message. While many of us may not agree with the message, the organization did follow policies and procedures set forth by the City & Downtown Fort Worth, Inc. We must respect freedom of speech. As we approach the Fourth of July, we must remember that many Americans have fought and died for the freedoms we cherish today.

It’s not often I react this way to a conservative politician, but those last two sentences…Amen. Couldn’t have said it better myself.

The City of Fort Worth put out a similar statement:

The City of Fort Worth has gotten several phone calls and complaints about some of the banners that are currently displayed in downtown. While some residents might not like the messaging on these banners, we do not currently restrict religious messaging, as long as it follows the current policy and procedures for display banners.

The City of Fort Worth Banner Policy and Procedures allows a non/not-for-profit to place banners within the public right-of-way for the purpose of promoting the organization or special event held by the organization. The event must be in Fort Worth and open to the public, or of common interest to the general community.

The banners may be displayed no more than 6 weeks prior to the start of the event/exhibit and must be removed within 5 working days of the completion of the event/exhibit.

The City of Fort Worth works with Downtown Fort Worth, Inc. to administer the display banner program.

The Metroplex Atheists purchased the banners that are currently displayed in several downtown locations. They are holding an event on July 14, 2019, that fits the criteria necessary to purchase the banners.

If an organization meets the established criteria for purchasing the banners, the city cannot discriminate or dictate the content unless it contains profanity, threats or other inappropriate images.

The response is refreshing.

For the next couple weeks (including the Fourth of July, when downtown Fort Worth will host the biggest Fireworks show in North Texas), every one of the hundreds of thousands who visit downtown Fort Worth will be reminded, every day, that Christians do not have a monopoly in this country.

They will be reminded that this city, state, and country are rich with diversity, and that exclusionary politics does not work. They have to recognize diversity in beliefs, backgrounds, and positions. They have to work with atheists; they cannot relegate us to the sidelines of the public square. We are here, and we aren’t going anywhere.

They’ll be reminded, also, that the phrase, “In God We Trust” does not describe the city, state, or country, because many do NOT trust in God. Regardless of your religious or nonreligious background, you are part of this country. We are unapologetically diverse, multifaceted, and free to believe or not believe in any religion.

And out of the multitude of our diversity – not our false sense of homogeneity – will be the only way we can find harmony.

It is deeply encouraging to see Fort Worth atheists carrying the torch in this direction, and I am glad the local government is finally realizing how important the truth of our diversity is so that their efforts have a chance to spread. It’s a heartwarming story of how, in spite of the backlash, we can work together in the midst of our differences.

Or, as our motto put it, “E Pluribus Unum.”

The event being promoted will be in the Fort Worth Botanic Garden IRIS room on July 14^th from 3-5pm, at 3220 Botanic Garden Blvd. It will be hosted by Metroplex Atheists president Courtney Stewart and Aron Ra.

Carry your candle, run to the darkness
Seek out the lonely, the tired and worn
Hold out your candle for all to see it
Take your candle, and go light your world. — Chris Rice

The earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters. Then God said, “Let there be light”; and there was light.” – Genesis 1:2-3

So begins the second verse of the Bible.

I remember being a child, about ten years old, reading those words. The emptiness those verses spoke of – the idea of an absolute void. Peering into that darkness is frightening.

If I’m going to be dead honest, the idea of darkness still frightens me. I have days when I am embracing the zest of life, in all its beauty and pain, horror and comfort, comedy and tragedy…and then, I get this feeling of existential angst. Like I’m alone in the universe, ultimately, and one day I’m going to die, and the universe will grow cold.

And if I keep thinking about it…the universe really is cold. Sure, I’m in the universe…but it doesn’t care about me. I am, to some extent, alone. And even if I join hands with humans I care about, we are all, to some extent, alone.

Sometimes I wonder if a major reason we are reaching out for some type of intelligent life out there – besides wanting to possibly inhabit another planet or other more noble scientific pursuits – is that we want to know whether we are alone.

Something about the idea that someone out there understands our experience gives us a kind of comfort. I think that, for many Christians, God is that source of comfort, that source of understanding. For many of us atheists…well, we’ve found it in other things. In the reality of connection to the universe, in connection to friends, in connection to what we love about our lives…and, among some of us, a seeking for some kind of intelligent life beyond our experience that might make us feel a little less alone.

Now, I can debate God all day. But sometimes I’ll be debating about the concept of God, and I’ll be digging into the reasoning of a Christian, and suddenly I’ll hit the real reason-underneath-the-reason of why they cling to a concept of God. More often than not, that reason is fear – fear that if they let go of God, they’ll be let out into a cold void in which nothing matters. In which they are alone.

We know this from stats, too. The stronger your safety net, the less likely you are to be religious. Not necessarily because your logic is better…but because you feel less alone, less isolated, less existentially segregated from existence.

There’s this concept that I’ve heard in Christianity that it is up to human beings to be manifestations of God to each other. Preachers who wax eloquent on this concept will say that it is a waste of time to simply hope that God helps your fellowman – maybe God needs someone with skin on to do his work.

Now, the concept has several things we could be critical of, like the disturbing beliefs and irrational rules Christian “help” is often based on. But human beings, I think, created this concept for a reason. Many of us, include myself, have a yearning to feel less alone, to feel connected, to feel that we’re more than just meaningless nothings in a universe that does not care about us.

That yearning is a common denominator in the psyche and emotions among many atheists and many Christians, even though the way they deal with this common denominator varies widely.

But here’s one thing I think about, as an ex-Christian atheist – in this whole scheme, isn’t God lonely?

Is that why he supposedly created a world? Because he wanted someone to love, someone to care for, someone to make his spirit less lonely and trapped in the void?

Come to think of it, isn’t that why we create our own worlds?

Maybe the person or people who sat down and wrote Genesis 1:2 felt alone in the universe and wrote Genesis 1 because they, like the God they made up in their own image, had to create a world to feel less alone…

Maybe that’s the same thing I do, in a different way, with different concepts.

To some extent, I think we’re all trying to save our lives with stories we tell ourselves about who we are.

The stories of our lives include ourselves, conscious beings we care about, conscious beings who care about us, our goals, our dreams, our definitions of success and significance, and so on…

My story is not the Genesis story. But like the writer(s) of Genesis 1, I’m putting pen to paper and making a story that is largely determined by my own desires, insecurities, and fears even as it responds to them in various ways.

Just as God is largely a reflection of the Genesis writer(s)’s own desires and fears, so the character labeled “Martin Hughes” in the story of myself that I present to the world and chose to believe is a reflection of my own desires and fears.

And just as that Genesis writer(s)’s protagonist shed light on their world…so this character I created labeled “Martin Hughes” sheds light on mine. And the moment “Martin Hughes” sheds light on my world…I feel more centered and at peace in my existence.

But I don’t want to create my story alone. At the base of my story is a strong desire to connect in a positive way to other conscious beings we are actually wearing skin. Just as many Christians will insist on the importance of in-person help and interaction as a manifestation of God, so it is not enough for me to merely claim I know who Martin Hughes is – I actually have to be that, in person, with my skin on.

And if I want to make it a less lonely world in which people feel less of a need to have God as a character in their stories…it would help to recognize them as valuable, as worthy of love, as human. Because I am in charge of my perspective, and if I choose to see them that way, that’s what they are. And if that view I have of them resonates in their own story, they may see less of a reason to believe in God.

Or maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll still need God, but we can still bond over our common humanity, vulnerabilities and all, and thus see collaborative ways to make the world a better place in spite of our disagreements. And in its way, either alternative has a certain beauty to it.

Thanks for reading.

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.”

They’re the first words in the Bible and, for many of us atheists, they are highly offensive. Why do we have to put God there, right at the beginning? It’s really messed up in a disturbing way – as if, before our own experience, before logic, before reality itself…the Bible is saying that we have to start with God.

As an atheist who is a former antitheist, I sympathize. Because of this verse, many Christians believe that a nonexistent God trumps humanity’s own judgment, and this can have extremely disturbing consequences.

At the same time, I am fascinated by the concept of a beginning. The reality that people, for thousands of years, have attached significance to the beginning is very interesting to me. For some reason, people have been obsessed with origins as if they have some significance for who we are here and now.

I see this in my own approach to atheism, as well. When Neil Degrasse Tyson waxes eloquent about the reality that we all came from stars, I feel a swelling in my heart. I feel more connected to everything around me – not just in a physical sense, but down to the depths of my emotions and thoughts. It’s beautiful.

To me, what I feel seems almost analogous to what a Christian feels when rejoicing that God loves them. Oh, sure, I know that the universe as a whole does not care about me, and that my consciousness will eventually disintegrate instead of living with a conscious being in paradise. But there is something about being intimately connected with the physicality of the universe and originating from the same place as the stars in the night sky that gives me a deep sense of assurance.

I think that when I was a Christian, I thought that atheists had to leave the wonder of God creating the entire universe. But I can see, now, that this is far from the truth. I don’t believe God created the entire universe, but I do share something in common with most Christians in my visceral attraction towards the idea of having some sort of origin. What Christians call “spirituality” feels a lot like the way I feel when I look up in the night sky and think that I came from what the rest of the universe came from. My heart swells even now I think about the billions of years it took to have my heartbeat, to use my fingers to type, and to have an incredibly intricate brain that enables me to even write these words to other manifestations of the evolution in this awesome universe.

Sometimes, I think that Christians suspect that atheists are interested in taking away their sense of connection to an origin that they label “spirituality.” But these feelings I have indicate to me that, at lease for me, nothing could be farther from the truth. I am not trying to take away the inspiring sense of wonder and awe that a Christian might feel when they close their eyes, or look up into the night sky. If anything, my interest is in expanding it.

Here’s a confession: I have had extensive conversations with Christians who will say that God hides behind a veil – that he probably created the universe, but that we can only theorize about how he did that and what he might be like – and sometimes, when I start to argue with the most liberal of these Christians…I find that there isn’t much to argue about. I, too, think that there is a lot I don’t know about where I come from, about how the universe works, or about the origins of the universe (or, indeed, whether discussing the “origins” of the universe even makes sense). And that sense of mystery gives me a sense of wonder. I still want to know, I still want to explore, and I’m still fascinated by this life. The fact that I don’t know what’s behind the limits of my knowledge exponentially increases my interest in living while I’m here…and even though I am fairly confident that there’s no God, I still feel a strange affinity with the Christian who embraces the “mystery” of God as I am invigorated by the mysteries before me.

I think at the base of it, we live in a beautiful world if you look at it from a certain angle. Oh, there is ugliness in religion a-plenty. I’m not denying that at all. But when I ask myself what the origins of religion must be – the human desires it sprang from, and why I might have been attracted to it at one point of my life – I begin to see how humans could be so attached to several religious concepts. It makes sense to me because I still have a kind of interest in origins, in connection to the heart of existence, in the mystery of how the universe began. I still embrace wonder and often feel a sense of awe. The fact that I became an atheist didn’t change all that, for me…I simply found it in different places.

Admittedly, embracing these emotions, thoughts, and feelings as an atheist is a bit more freeing than it was when I was a Christian. My wonder does not have to stop with, “God did it, that’s it.” I can dig deeper, I can play with different theories and ways of looking at the world, and I can embrace a wider range of thoughts – both religious and secular – as an atheist than I ever could as a fundamentalist Christian. I feel free to embrace truth and entertain myths with a greater sense of abandon.

So when I read those first words in the Bible, I’m glad I’m not limited to a rather restrictive God. But I still feel a sense of attraction to the wonder, connection, and beauty within the beginning of our existence, and I see it as a place that me and most Christians can connect and understand each other, in spite of the divide. In my life, I’ve found that this mutual understanding can make a healing difference in individual relationships, allowing for more honesty in friendships concerning where we’re coming from.

Thanks for reading.

When we leave Christianity, it’s easy to hate it.

After all, most of the people we know are Christian. They get together once a week. They paint us ex-Christians as terrible people, problematic anomalies, or patronizingly deficient “lost souls.” We might lose our spouses, our kids might become disappointed in us, our parents may be in tears, many of our “friends” might leave us, and our usual way of connecting with people – going to a church and bonding – has become the fastest way for us to be alienated the moment we’re honest.

It’s like taking a sudden jump into a cold pool. Suddenly, you can feel drastically lonely as an ex-Christian atheist – and that alienation can intensify the less complimentary your view of Christianity is.

Being right can, in many cases, be a lonely thing.

How do we find community? Many of us look for kindred spirits – atheist groups on Facebook, Reddit, or other online hangouts. Some of us are lucky enough to be near a major city where there is a collection of atheists who meet and socialize. We may join atheist organizations, write posts in favor of our stance that like-minded people gravitate towards, and meet at conferences to support each other.

Or at least, that’s what I did. I thought I had to.

But I found out something over the last seven years of my ex-Christian atheism that you might find relevant for your purposes, too.

It’s difficult to be part of a group whose entire existence is based on the disapproval of something. I’m not defined by the fact that I don’t believe in God. What I don’t believe in ultimately is a black hole — a thing that doesn’t have any real impact on my life, in and of itself.

I’m affected because other people around me love something that doesn’t exist, and that affects the way that they interact with me.

It’s like being surrounded by people who believe in bigfoot, when you don’t believe in bigfoot. Sure, you can join the small group of anti-bigfooters. But ultimately that’s boring, because you don’t believe in bigfoot. And it’s demoralizing, after a while, because you’re defining your group by something you hate. The people who believe in bigfoot are defining themselves by something they love.

And chances are high that when you list the reasons why you hate the concept of bigfoot, those reasons will have more to do with the ways people act on the concept of bigfoot in ways that trample things you love. Which would mean that your anti-bigfootness ultimately has less to do with bigfoot, and more to do with the way bigfoot believers trample on things that you love.

The things you love are really the point of your existence. They define your deepest experiences – and are, ultimately, who you are. Or, at least, that’s how it feels to me. The things I hate, I want to separate myself from. But the things I love? I want to hold them close.

And as an ex-antitheist, I’d rather focus my energy on embracing the things I love than pushing the things I hate. In that embrace of science, of truth, of empathy, and of love, I may engage in actions that may seem anti-theistic. But I am, fundamentally, not someone who sees himself as defined by what I reject; I am defined by what I am for.

For me, that’s a healthier way to live. It’s more exciting, in the long run, and it yields deeper enjoyment in a wider, deeper slice of this world that I only get to experience for about eighty years.

I guess I’ve decided that I’d like to love as much of this world as possible – to focus more on what is here than what is not.

Being part of a group defined by what we’re against can yield short-term dividends, and cause us to make quick friends. I’m convinced that people who have freshly left Christianity, or are under a lot of criticism for their atheism, likely need be part of groups that will hear their very important stories and assure them that they belong in the world. But I’ve also seen that hundreds of these ex-Christian atheists tend to change, over time. Oh, they still have atheist friends, and sometimes they build strong communities – but they eventually begin to get tired of griping about religion for the umpteenth time.

They start focusing, increasingly, on what they love. Many of the times, some things they love are not acceptable according to the branch(es) of Christianity they came out of. And while they are against the Christian beliefs that are opposed to what they love, Christianity eventually is not their main focus. The things they love are. And as the things they love take up a larger and larger part of who they are, they begin to focus less and less on what they are against and more and more on what they’re for.

I’ve written previously about the “splintering” of the atheist “movement” – movements that once seemed united and focused suddenly begin to divide based on different politics, interests, social positions, and other factors. The more I’ve observed this splintering, the more I’ve been beginning to suspect that it might be a feature of the atheist “movement,” and not a bug.

We’re dividing because we are growing free to embrace what we love. And when we do that…the lack of belief – or even the presence of belief – in those around us becomes less important than whether they will help us embrace the things we love.

And that’s why some may leave the beaten path of focusing on anger against religion, because we are distracted so deeply by the things we love. And eventually the things we love often become our new locuses of community.

And that’s OK. Or at least, that’s what I’ve told myself.

Today? I love science. I love philosophy. I love social justice. I love the beauty of black skin. I love economic justice. I love equality. I love empathy. I love a beautiful girl. I love lazy Saturday afternoons, laughing with friends, delicious food, and beautiful downtown evenings. I love a good movie, I love family, and I even sometimes love the architecture and solemnity I find in some churches or mosques or temples even though I don’t believe the religion itself. I love working. I love embracing a personally and communally meaningful life on the infinitesimal sliver of time I have on this infinitesimally small blue dot we call “earth.”

I love writing about the things I love, and I love you, reader, for taking the time to share these things with me.

From my heart to yours:

Thank you for reading.