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Why I Am Not an Atheist (but think they get a lot right)
When Melbourne played host to the Global Atheist Convention in 2010 and again in 2012, it was, for the most part, a gathering like any other. These events happen all the time. Every year there are conventions for historians, scientists, boating enthusiasts, medical practitioners, retirees, tax consultants, and, of course, religions, both traditional and new age. The format is generally the same. A function room and keynote speakers are booked, delegates pay a fee, presentations are made, and then mountains of books, DVDs, and other resources are sold. Unlike the myriad of other events, the Global Atheist Convention managed to attract fierce opposition and protesters. In scenes that were almost comical, groups of Islamic and Christian protesters rallied outside the Melbourne Convention Centre to warn participants that they were bringing down the wrath of the God they do not believe in. Watching video footage of the heated shouting competitions between indignant theists and defiant anti-theists, I could not help but find a certain ridiculousness to it all. Why were these protesters so offended that others did not share their views? Also, why are the same people not protesting Sexpo or the Mind Body Spirit Festival? Both of those high profile events promote a lifestyle and philosophy at odds with fundamental Islam or Christianity. Why is atheism in particular the target of such outrage?
Atheism and Christianity are obviously different worldviews, but I strongly challenge the notion that they are the natural enemies often presented. Is there no common ground? Is there no basis for civility and diversity? The BBC One discussion show, The Big Questions, ran a fascinating episode asking if it was time for all religions to accept evolution. The panel was not split, as one might expect, between atheistic scientists who promote evolution and religious leaders who reject it. Rather the pro-evolution case was presented jointly and passionately by science writer and atheist Matt Ridley and Christian palaeontologist Robert Asher. Also making the case was the geneticist and atheist Steve Jones and the Anglican Reverend Malcolm Brown. The divide on that panel was not between Christianity and atheism but reason and blind Fundamentalism. It was a debate between thinking people and those who insist that through dogmatic observance thinking can be avoided. The tragedy of Fundamentalism is that it denies the historic nexus of faith and reason that has underpinned Christian philosophers and apologists since the time of St. Paul. Christianity was never supposed to require mindless observance and the ācelebration of reasonā that marks new atheism is not something to challenge Christianity, but rather to improve it.
When St. Peter claimed that all believers must be ready to give an apologia for their faith, he literally meant they should be able to offer a logical answer, grounded in reason (1 Pet 3:15). The word apologia comes from the Greek legal system where the prosecution would present a Kategoria and the defence would offer an Apologia. St. Paul used the word apologia to describe his legal defence before Agrippa (Acts 26:2). The central part of apologia is the Greek word logos, which forms the root of the English term logic. The Latin form, ratio, was translated into French as raison and English as reason. Christianity must be able to defend itself academically if it is to survive in an increasingly sceptical, cynical, and educated world. Crucially, the Christian world must have the moral and intellectual courage to abandon long-held traditions and prejudices if they are found to be repugnant to reason.
I am not an atheist, but I am probably not a typical theist either. I grew up amid the Charismatic movement that influenced Australia and New Zealand in the 1980s. My earliest memories are from the age of four or five where I would pray in tongues with my Dad, engage in spiritual warfare at Sunday School, and frequently rededicate my life to Jesus as I was concerned I may have somehow fallen out of favor. The majority of my childhood and teenage years were spent attending Hills Christian Life Centre (now Hillsong Church), Sydney Christian Outreach Centre (now Sydney International Network of Churches), and various other Assemblies of God churches. While these modern Pentecostal churches were proud to say they rejected āreligionā and promoted a personal relationship with Christ, they were as staunchly conservative as traditional churches on most issues. While completing a doctorate in history at the Australian National University, I found myself increasingly attracted to the quiet meditation of the traditional Mass. I put down my electric guitar, which had been my ācallingā in Pentecostal circles, and began attending the Roman Catholic parish on campus. Bucking the current trend of Catholics leaving for the modern music and festive atmosphere of modern Evangelicalism, I went the other way and was confirmed in the Catholic Church in 2010. Today I would describe myself as a progressive, free-thinking Christian. While I see enormous beauty and value in Christianity, there is also meanness, bigotry, and a slavish observance to tradition that has made for an awkward adjustment to modernity. Perhaps most damaging of all, is a creeping clannishness that seeks to insulate followers from the outside world. The intension may be to protect from harm, but an inward-looking Christianity cuts off the possibility of learning and being inspired by the richness of other religious traditions and from the secular tradition also.
While my faith is an important part of my identity, my worldview has also been profoundly shaped by many of the great philosophers, some of whom were pantheists, deists, theists, and others still, avowed atheists. I believe all of these schools, and many others besides, have been championed by intellectual giants and offer a great deal of wisdom for the discerning reader. Along with theists, I believe all of these schools, and many others besides, have been championed by intellectual giants and offer a great deal of wisdom for the discerning reader. An appreciation for the history of ideas, the evolution of Western thought, and the architecture of logic and argument can greatly enrich a person. This knowledge gives us a better understanding of the construction and application of our own worldview and that of others. Looking back on the Christian environment I grew up in, I am struck by the defensive tribalism of many churchgoers and their hostility towards this perceived atheistic art called philosophy.
In 2014 the Christian feature film Godās Not Dead was released, achieving great commercial success, if accompanied by generally negative reviews. The crux of the film rests on an impossibly ludicrous premise where a militant atheist professor demands his philosophy class sign a declaration that āGod is deadā or risk failing the course. The star of the film is a faithful Christian who risks his academic career to challenge the professor and ultimately wins him and the entire class over to theism. The fact that the professorās actions grossly violate academic ethics seems completely lost on the writers and much of the conservative Christian audience. No credible university would tolerate a professor questioning or ridiculing the religious beliefs of its students. Ironically, it is not secular state universities but only independent religious ones that insist their students hold certain beliefs. The fact that a faith film could employ such an implausible storyline reveals a great deal about the Christian market. The film is responding to a profound cultural anti-intellectualism and a general suspicion of academics in general and philosophers in particular.
The influential Carthaginian writer, Tertullian, held a similar disdain for philosophy. Considered by some to be the father of Western theology, Tertullian saw philosophy as time wasted with endless questions that could have been spent meditating on the wonder of God. His comments on the death of Thales of Miletus are telling:
Thales of Miletus was a pre-Socratic thinker who is credited by Aristotle as the first philosopher in the Greek tradition. His curiosity about natural phenomena and attempts to understand the natural world without supernatural explanations earned him the praise of subsequent philosophers, but the derision of Tertullian. Christianity has, of course, engaged with philosophy in meaningful ways over the centuries, but a culture of suspicion, if not hostility, towards those seeking answers without recourse to the Divine has endured. While it certainly does not define Christianity writ large, it is something I have personally encountered.
I remember when I was first accepted to study history and philosophy at university, one of my Christian friends asked in amazement why I would want to study anything other than the Bible. Imagining some inextricable link, many other friends sternly warned me not to let the academy to turn me into an atheist. For these friends, re-reading the Bible over and over was far preferable to studying philosophy and Bible College was seen as the only safe form of tertiary education. As it happens, I never encountered the evangelistic atheists dreamt up by Godās Not Dead. The only attempts at religious conversion I ever saw came from the campus Christian and Islamic groups (who were both perfectly respectful, simply offering leaflets and often food to any who wanted information). While I never became an atheist, I did fall in love with the academy. The tradition of research and debate, the pursuit of excellence, and the search for truth filled me with wonder as I took my first tentative steps down the corridors of knowledge. Over nine years, I completed four degrees before taking on teaching roles. The academy has become part of my life and I am all the richer for it.
Contrary to some of the fears my friends expressed, it is clearly possible to study philosophy at the highest levels without abandoning deeply held convictions. This is because it is possible to entertain ideas without accepting them. Further, it is possible to study and to learn from great thinkers without necessarily accepting their worldview or ontological premises. While I am not personally an atheist, there is an undeniable power and beauty to the writings of David Hume and Simone de Beauvoir, John Stuart Mill and Karl Marx, Bertrand Russell, and so many others. In 2012 Alain de Botton was able to gaze over the philosophical divide and find plentiful material for his tome Religion for Atheists. Similarly, I am convinced that religious people can gain a great deal of insight from a better understanding atheism. Taking a leaf from de Botton, this little volume is titled Atheism for Christians. Abraham Lincoln famously said, āthough passion may have strained, it must not break our bonds of affection.ā In an increasingly diverse and globalized society, we should not seek to be enemies but friends with thos...