Spiritual Atheism and the False Comforts of Faith
David Gleeson August 15, 2006
Many religious faiths, including the big three Abrahamic faiths, teach that humans are central to the universe and God’s Plan. It is indoctrinated in us from childhood, so much so that it becomes a mantra: we are special; we are unique; we are created in God’s image; the universe exists solely for us. How can naturalism, with no guarantee of eternal life and no preferred position at the right hand of God, possibly compete with its ego-massaging and death-defying religious counterparts?
I believe the answer lies, at least in part, in a sadly unexplored arena: the ability of atheism (scientific naturalism) to be spiritually uplifting. Not "spiritual" in the sense of a religious spirit or soul, but rather in our innate ability to be awed or inspired. I can't speak for the religious, but I cannot imagine anyone feeling a greater sense of the spiritual than I do when I look up at a starry sky on a cloudless night. I've said it before and I'll continue saying it: There is more awe and wonder in one chapter of an introductory astronomy book than in any ten Bibles. No one, though, as far as I am aware, has ever adequately demonstrated in the mainstream that it is possible to live a spiritual, meaningful existence without a belief in God.
Touting the spiritual appeal of atheism in a predominantly evangelical Christian country like the United States may seem to be, at first glance, the worst type of self-delusional folly. Depending on how the question is worded, anywhere from 90 to 95% of Americans claim to believe in “God”. During the 2000 presidential campaign, when Al Gore nominated Joseph Lieberman, and Orthodox Jew, as his running mate, Americans were asked if they would vote for a qualified Jewish president. Over 90% of respondents said “Yes.” In the same poll, only 49% claimed they would support an atheist for president. While Jews can take heart in these numbers, atheists and humanists can only shake their heads in astonishment. When half of Americans still equate godless with immoral, there is clearly a massive amount of work to be done.
But there are signs that a properly understood spiritual atheism would appeal to a much larger percentage of Americans. Only 45% of Americans claim to attend church on a regular basis, while 40% say they “seldom or never” do so. When asked if they’ve attended church or synagogue in the last week, roughly 60% say "No." The same number say that religion as a whole is losing its influence on American life. Clearly, it is not biblical dogma and fire-and-brimstone sermons that hold sway over most individuals; rather, it is religion’s ability to inspire, to comfort, to reassure, and to create a sense of self and community. Ironically, though, scientific naturalism offers a spiritual well that's far deeper than anything so far tapped by the religious. In Pale Blue Dot, Carl Sagan’s eloquent and fascinating look at the future of human space flight, he questions organized religion’s reluctance to mine this huge potential source of spiritual fulfillment:
In some respects, science has far surpassed religion in delivering awe. How is it that hardly any major religion has looked at science and concluded, “This is better than we thought! The Universe is much bigger than our prophets said, grander, more subtle, more elegant. God must be even greater than we dreamed”? Instead they say, “No, no, no! My god is a little god, and I want him to stay that way.” A religion, old or new, that stressed the magnificence of the universe as revealed by modern science might be able to draw forth reserves of reverence and awe hardly tapped by the conventional faiths. Sooner or later, such a religion will emerge.
I doubt any religion, per se, will ever take up Mr. Sagan’s challenge, and so it is incumbent upon atheists and humanists to lead the way. There are wonders enough in the universe without our having to invent any.
Whatever form this spiritual defense of naturalism takes, it must be unabashedly passionate about science and the scientific method of inquiry. With this must come a fervent skepticism of all things supernatural and a complete rejection of the concept of faith. Faith is the last recourse of the intellectually defeated. When you invoke faith, you admit your belief cannot stand on its own merit, for if the evidence compelled you to believe it, faith would be superfluous. The faith that allows you to believe in a personal, all-merciful God allows your next-door neighbor to believe an invisible dragon is living in his basement, or the fanatic on the bus next to you to believe that a martyr’s death (spectacularly accomplished by blowing himself, and you, to pieces) will send him straight to heaven and into the waiting arms of 72 sex-starved virgins. Either way, you’ve entered the realm of irrationality and, in many cases, severe mental illness. Faith and reason (and, by extension, religion and science) are as incompatible as trust and jealousy or joy and sadness, and it’s high time people of intellect stopped according them equal respect.
The events of 9/11 caused many people to reevaluate their faith and their concept of a personal God, though it seems clear no one is exactly beating down the doors to atheism because of this self-imposed introspection. The primary reason, in my mind, is that most theists are under the impression that atheism is an immoral doctrine that robs life of its meaning and purpose. Hopefully, someone will take up the challenge and eloquently refute this belief. In the meantime, it is my fervent hope that our children’s children inherent a world free from superstition, fear, guilt, arrogance and sin, and that we all learn to embrace a new, spiritual atheism that espouses love and tolerance toward each other, and awe and humility in the face of an endlessly wondrous, but godless, universe.
