"God is dead. God remains dead. And we have killed him."
Nietzsche's words, along with this well-worn phrase now regulated to sweaters and bumper stickers, had a profound effect on me as a teenager. It was a direct and angry expression (or seemed so at the time) that symbolized much of the resentment I felt, and, if truth be told, sometimes feel towards anything having to do with religion or God.
But let's back up a bit.
I'm not sure how it goes these days, but when I was a young surfer, growing up in Cocoa Beach, Florida, there was a strong Christian movement within that local subculture. Perhaps it was just within my own microcosm, but it was a visible and attractive force.
Drifting along the spiritual current that surrounded me, I found myself in churches and bible studies, earnestly trying to let the "Holy Spirit" take hold of me. I looked around at the people with raised arms and closed eyes and very much wanted to be swept up by the same invisible force. I listened in bible study. I read my bible. I felt like I was part of a large family who gladly accepted me into the fold. In time, questions started to bubble up, and I soon found that that acceptance was predicated upon my willingness to remain relatively silent about that confusion. With an increasing amount of uncertainty and a growing pit in my gut, I left Christianity, feeling that so much of what I was reading and much of what I was told didn't make sense and that I really didn't belong. Well, that and being forcefully yanked out of a car by my furious bible study leader lead to the last straw. That last part is a long story, but the girl in the car was the daughter of our minister, the bible study leader was her jealous ex-boyfriend who was hiding in my moon-lit parking lot.
Recalling these and countless other memories, from my time in Catholic school to overzealous hippies, dogmatic Buddhist's, con-artist Sadhus, and really, just living in the world, experience has taught me to be very cautious around anyone who describes themselves as religious or spiritual. The majority of assholes I've known throughout my life considered themselves as such. Yes, we're all sinners, and if that's the case, I'd rather just be an asshole.
That same frustration threads Bill Maher's new documentary, Religulous. A collection of comedic, serious and often mocking revelations on the various institutions of God.
As a confirmed atheist, Maher never hides his disdain for the subject matter or his subjects. While I must admit that I share most of his views on many aspects of religion, politics, and drugs, I couldn't help but be turned off by much of his condescension; Moments when he seems more interested in making fun of his subjects and getting his own lines in rather than letting them talk -- which, as the brilliance of Sasha Baron Cohen has shown, often leads to starker revelations. But this is Maher's gig and, a few complaints aside, the film does actually work. Though, admittedly, I am a little biased.
A greater part of the film deals with Christianity in America. From the ex-gay minister, now married to an ex-lesbian, who councils other gay men to the Lord, to a creation museum where saddled dinosaurs and men co-exist, to a truck stop chapel where Maher is able to question the flock. At the end of this debate, long after a visibly upset trucker storms out, angry that someone is "talking about his God," Maher thanks the members for being "Christ-like" and let's them pray for his soul.
And that really gets to the heart of Religulous. The fact that many atheist's, myself included, have no problem with the concept of God or Jesus or Allah (however ridiculous it may seem to us) but in the people who justify questionable, dare say immoral actions in the name of that deity.
For myself, and this isn't bullshit, I have many religious friends who I love dearly and consider very close. Many of the people I work with are dedicated members of their church. The only time these relationships have come to blows is when the subject of creationism in schools or gay rights come up. Call it self-preservation, but I cannot help but get worked up when someone literally tells me that I'm going to suffer eternal torment for living a full and happy life with a man that I truly love.
In a recent argument, I was literally told that it would be "better" if I was with a woman. That if I'm allowed to marry another man, and I quote: "what's to stop murder and bestiality from becoming legal?" And really, where can you go from there? How can you rationalize with someone who thinks you're on the same moral level as thieves, horse fuckers and murderers. How can the gays compete with the sanctity of marriage when up against a 50% divorce rate and such pillars of sacred matrimony:
All I can say to that is, if your god truly plays such cruel tricks as to show me happiness and love with another consenting adult and then say (through a constantly revised book) that it's bad for me, I want nothing to do with him or his flock. I'll gladly stand clear of the kind of thinking that gets gay men killed, has made me fear for my life on several occasions, and separates more families than you know. If the rules against homosexuality in the Old Testament are followed, but the rules for advocating human trafficking, slavery, bride-pricing and the murder of adulterers are ignored, what does that say about those laws? The argument that, "well, that is part of old testament," is invalidated when you read "For whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction..." in Romans 15:4.
And that, like searching through the fine print of an outdated contract, is where this whole religion business fundamentally gets lost. If an all-powerful god wanted to make its rules known, could it not give us something more literal than 2000 year old poetry and occasional images in a taco? Nonetheless, if the bible is to be read literally, then you cannot follow one rule and ignore another. It's everything or nothing at all. As for homosexuality, I suspect that the aversion so many people have against men humping other men has more to do with personal disgust than following the word of God. But let's be clear, the majority of gay men I know are equally disgusted by the thought of straight couples getting it on.
Throughout the film, the question often asked of Maher is, "What if you're wrong?" His answer is that, if your belief in God is based on afterlife insurance, how sacred could that relationship really be? And as for the assumption that our laws are based on Christianity? And this is my answer, anyone remotely acquainted with ancient cultures (least of all the Greeks) can tell you... that's just plain false.
Maher's argument is not that he firmly believes that there is no God, but that he doesn't know, couldn't know... and neither do you. And anyone who tells you different is either lying to you, lying to themselves, crazy, or all of the above. Like Maher, I have no problem with people needing God in their lives. But, I do have a problem with God being shoved into mine.
Religulous is not a film of acceptance. Maher, not for one second, pretends to be a harbinger of peace and understanding. On the contrary, the film ends with Maher's own atheist Jihad. A call for atheists, (which a recent
survey in the U.S. shows that the number of 18-25 year olds who are atheist, agnostic or nonreligious has increased from 11 percent in 1986 to 20 percent today) to come out of the closet.
For myself, I don't really know what that will accomplish. Having been in countless arguments through the years, I now find it best, though not always possible, not to engage in such open discourse as it invariably leads to temperamental outbursts and bruised egos. I get along with my religious friends because, for the most part, we don't talk about it. As an opinionated man who likes to be right, I get into a lot of debates that sometimes turn into arguments. As a sensitive man, I always take those arguments home. The older I get, the more I ask what good such discussions cause? And I guess that's the biggest reason I enjoyed Religulous so much; the joy of watching someone else voice the arguments that, in my own life, have often led to strife at home.
"Religion comes from the period of human prehistory where nobody -- not even the mighty Democritus who concluded that all matter was made from atoms -- had the smallest idea what was going on. It comes from the bawling and fearful infancy of our species, and is a babyish attempt to meet our inescapable demand for knowledge."
--Christopher Hitchens: God is Not Great, How Religion Poisons Everything
Yours in Service,
rp
