Unbelievable

***One of my favorite bloggers is Harry T. Cook. I've been receiving his essays by email for several years now, on the recommendation of a friend of mine who is also a former religionist. What I like about Harry is that despite decades of education and faithful practice as an Episcopalian priest he eventually came to the realization that religion as mostly BS. I don't agree with him completely in that I would go further and call it poison.

In a recent essay, "Believing, We Do Not Believe, he begins with

    "Among the many readers of these essays are a number of older, mostly retired members of the clergy. They are Roman Catholics, Episcopalians, Methodists, Lutherans, Presbyterians, several rabbis [former Christian Scientists like me] and others who can no longer identify fully -- if at all -- with their religious pasts."

 ...
    A few of them have become convinced that, for example, most of the Bible is pure myth. I think they are wrong about that, but the point is that they had to deal with biblical passages for their whole ordained ministry and evidently felt constrained to treat many of them more or less as historical reportage. Some of them express relief at no longer having to put on such an act week after week.

Speaking from experience I can say that the acting doesn't come on suddenly. It accrues over many years, and for too many years before the spell is broken life is more or less an agony as the disparity between profession and understanding becomes wider.

I'm one of those who have concluded that the Bible is mostly a pack of myths, propaganda and outright lies. What isn't in those categories is pretty good, but doesn't need the Bible or theistic agencies to give them credibility. They are constituents of what might be called secular humanism in drag. As the billboards say: we don't need a god in order to be good.

Harry goes on to recommend a book by Elaine Pagels, which I have read, where she cites an experience she had walking into a church during the depths of her faith crisis. Even though she had known that church doctrines were unsupported by science or reason, she "fell in love" with that church. I think the import of his statement is that the church provided something essential to her as a human being, a kind of comfort that helps some people bear up under their disillusionments. I have heard this also from many others who claim that the true value of religion, and its churches, is to provide that comfort regardless of the challenges life presents them.

Just as most drugs have various degrees of negative side effects, the drug of religious comfort has costs to the believer. Those costs are too high for some of us, while others struggle to bear up. Regardless, the problem is that religion always wants to point to a deific source for that comfort instead of recognizing that human nature is complex and susceptible to many influences. So many of the recent studies on the brain illustrate that susceptibility and the wide range of influences —  none of them deific. To some of us, the blatant unreasonableness of spiritual concepts is untenable, to the point of causing extreme anxiety and bizarre behavior. Maybe stalwarts like Cook can stand being in the same room with believers and their proclamations. I can't.

As I've stated before, it's not that I have found an exact replacement for the drug-induced comfort of religion. Indeed, I would have to say that the pains of living without that drug are sometimes overwhelming.

Recently I attended a funeral for a dear friend of mine. The service was held in the Unitarian church that for decades I would see from the parking lot of my Christian Science church directly across the street. Sometimes I'd deride that sect for being wishy-washy for having no real god to believe in. And yet, my recent experience at that church, and my contact with the pastor, were so comforting that I said to her: In another context this would be the church I would attend because it provides comfort without exacting a profession of faith in an unreal supernatural being.

As a person of reason I can't bear the hypocrisy of eloquence in defense of bullshit, which I think was one of my special talents during those personal Dark Ages. These days, this blog is my main antidote to the poison I spread for 30+ years as a Christian Scientist. I really don't want another platform from which to rail against religion. I don't have time for it at my age. And besides, religion is doing a very good job of poisoning itself.

I like Harry and recommend him to real thinkers both within and without the ranks of religion, spirituality or whatever label applies to belief in things that are unbelievable by nature. But unlike Harry, I would claim to be Unbelieving, We Still Do Not Believe.

Why there is no "spiritual healing" industry

For over 30 years I practiced "spiritual healing" and never could make a living from it. And I never knew anybody else who got rich off that kind of practice. The little money I did make was from faithful people who believed they should support the practice, or from people too timid to complain they weren't healed, or from people who simply wanted a dial-a-friend. (Yes, there are a lot of lonely, hurting people who just want someone to say nice, positive things and express some love to them.)

But aside from the theological issues, a strong reason I stopped that kind of quackery is that there's no money to be made in it because spiritual healing simply does not work. If it did, it would be the hottest industry in the world. There would be millionaire spiritual healers. IPOs would spring up like mushrooms over every latest wrinkle in prayer technique or practice. Apologists for spiritual healing explain the vacuum by citing the evil materialism of opponents, even while they often admit that medical practitioners are sincere and humanitarian. In other words, most people who rely on or practice medicine just aren't spiritual enough.

And yet, in spite of - or even because of - their greed, there would be a spiritual healing industry larger than modern medicine. Sheer pecuniary interest would make converts of atheists and those billions of vulgar materialists - just as they now invest in the oil and defense industries, that while they do so much damage still have huge markets for their products.

But there's no such investment opportunity. Spiritual healers are pretty much loners, cultivating groups of followers who have more faith in them as shamans than in the spiritual "science" they purport to practice. And I'm not talking about the flashy televangelists who mesmerize millions with their obviously tricked up displays of faith healing. I'm talking about "professional" solo entrepreneurs, like I used to be. And even ordinary folk who offer to pray for sick people.

In the following article, Why Use Medicine If Prayer Works?," this conversation sums it up:

Nurse: “Would you like me to say a prayer for you?”

Me: “Feel free. Now I’d like to ask you a question… why did you go through all the necessary medical training if you believe that prayer can heal people?”

The phantom limb

**"Brother Crow "makes a good point about the "cost" of evolving to atheism. I often feel that old hankering for my Imaginary Friend, the "easy believism" that eases fear and provides a measure of courage. During some of the scarier and painful moments of my recent physical problems, I could feel that old twitch, the turning to a "comforter," like a phantom limb.

In a recent poem, The Hole, I note that simply having an experience isn't proof of the reality of what seems to prompt it:

Calling it good doesn't make it real.
Every conned victim believes, for a time,
in value received from the predation;
every junkie's jiggered brain
runs movies indistinguishable from reality;
every drug is a prayer,
every prayer a drug.
Every delusion works
awhile.

Here are some excerpts from Crow's recent blog:

But - actually - I am not thinking of that kind of thing when I talk about the cost of agnosticism/atheism. I am talking about something else, possibly a spiritual dynamic (and certainly psycho-social) that resists the notion of denying or questioning the reality of God. It's really a question of the head versus the heart. My head has always doubted the reality of God - my heart yearns for his reality. Rationally, reasonably, I can question (at least) and deny (at most) the existence of a Divine Being. But my heart wants magic, mystery, and the sense of wonder that can be part of the journey of faith and belief.

I don't have much respect for those on either side of the God debate who deny the role of the aching heart in the agnositic/atheist community. Of course, I admit that not all have the emotional resonance with Christianity that I have as a former Christian. But anyone who denies the role of emotion in the formation of faith and belief is a liar and a fool. We are not just thinking animals...we feel, and our feelings are often a far more powerful reality than our reason.

I miss God. I often want to fall back on easy believism. A recent commenter on this site reminded me of the rules of "easy believism" - God says it, I believe it, that settles it. No questions asked. I wish! My heart wants - indeed, aches - for a trust in a Heavenly Daddy who loves me, desires the best for me, has a plan for me, and will help me accomplish that plan if I put my trust in him (and give his church my money)!

A few days ago, I saw a guy wearing a religious tee-shirt. It showed a knight in armor, kneeling, with his sword in front of him. Over the picture were these words" "The difficulty of what you face is not as great as the Power behind you." It nearly brought me to tears. How I yearn to believe - simply, as a child - that there is God who stood behind me, held me up, helped me through. Alas...and forsooth.

Remember the movie "Pitch Black" - the sci-fi movie that introduced us to Vin Diesel as Riddick, the space cowboy? In that movie, a mullah challenges Riddick, saying "you don't believe in God." Riddick responds - "No, I absolutely do believe in God. And I absolutely hate the M---F---er!"

It's hard to believe. It's harder to choose not to, especially when your heart - your emotional life - yearns to believe.

But there is a reason I choose not to believe...and the cost of atheism is high.