Author Archive for writerdd

My Abstinence Education

Published
by
writerdd
on April 19, 2008
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When I was 15, I fell in love with J— and with Jesus. One stole my heart, the other my soul. Neither love would last, but both haunt me to this day.

In the ‘60s, while I was jumping rope and playing hop scotch, Jesus got down off of the heavy cross at the altar of the Catholic church and turned into a cool, hippie dude who loved everyone. It was quite a change of image for a guy who’d been King of Kings and Lord of Lords for almost 2,000 years to start chumming around with the regular folks as good ole boy, JC. The Jesus Movement, started in California by hippies who got high on Jesus instead of LSD, knew Jesus not as the stern, Father-God sorting out the sinners and the saints on Judgment Day, but as an earthy, loving brother accepting all humanity with open arms.

By the time the Jesus Movement reached Long Island at the end of the decade, it had lost most of its hippie accoutrements and had become quite suburban. Its evangelists looked more like Ozzie and Harriet than like Peter, Paul, and Mary. My parents were too old to be hippies and I was too young, but both of our generations succumbed to the hippie mantras of the Jesus Movement: Peace, Love, and Joy.

The further Jesus moved from the cross, the closer he moved to my heart. From Almighty Son-of-God to Personal Savior to friend. When his sandal-shod feet finally hit the dusty ground, I was ready to fall in love with him forever. At church, I was right in the middle, sitting in the front row, raising my hands to praise God, dancing in the aisles, speaking in tongues, playing worship songs on my guitar, reading the Bible over and over again, the way I’d read The Lord of the Rings the year before. (In the end, Frodo, Merry, Pippin, and Sam stuck with me. Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John did not.)

My view of romantic love came out of my relationship to God. We sang, “Jesus I love you. Jesus I praise you. Jesus I worship you,”as we gathered together in impromptu basement churches filled with metal folding chairs. Not a pattern of mutual respect and adoration, but of master and slave, lord and liege, creator and creation. I loved J— from afar, too, with the same fervor, longing, and unfulfilled desire.

I made up my own ten commandments for the single Christian girl to explain the rules I lived by:

  • Thou shalt not have premarital sex.
  • Thou shalt save thyself for thine husband.
  • Thou shalt not have a baby out of wedlock.
  • Thou shalt not kiss a boy (or a girl!).
  • Thou shalt be a good girl at parties.
  • Thou shalt be chaste, your body is a temple.
  • Thou shalt not get drunk or stoned.
  • Thou shalt not be a glutton.
  • Thou shalt be a good wife, because it is better to marry than to burn.
  • Thou shalt not have an abortion.

And that’s where sex didn’t come into the picture.

J— and I never had sex, never went on a date, never went “steady.” We should have been making out in the basement, instead we were holding hands in church. We should have been exploring our sexuality, instead we were following outdated rules. We should have been studying for our SATs, instead we were poring over the Bible. We should have been stoned at a rock concert, instead we were singing “Amazing Grace.” I remember sitting next to J— at a quaint old-fashioned church we visited, wanting to hold his hand, but too shy. Did he want to sit closer, put his arm around me, as if we were in a movie theater instead of a sanctuary? I imagined saying “I love you,” but I never did. Neither did he. We sang, “I love you with the love of the Lord,” when they told us to greet one-another in church. I think we both saw in each other’s eyes, that wasn’t what we meant.

Looking back, I see that I used my “personal relationship with Jesus” as a cop out that allowed me to I could hold onto the black-and-white morality that had been comfortable to me when I was 5, 8, and 11 years old. By the time I was 15 I should have been outgrowing that and learning how to emotionally and physically deal with adult issues and moral ambiguity, but I was afraid to. Jesus gave me the perfect excuse to hold onto a juvenile morality. I thought I was being chaste, but I was just being childish.

My own experiences make me wonder how many teens who are making chastity pledges are doing it because they are afraid to grow up. Now, I don’t think teens should have sex before they are ready, and no one should never do anything sexual that makes them uncomfortable. But you can’t avoid puberty and hiding in a cave of piety will not help you mature emotionally or spiritually. This type of behavior simply stunts growth and development. Looking back, I am sad for my younger self–sad that she missed out on so many wonderful experiences and that she was so afraid of everything. I am also sad that so many teens today are falling into the same trap, and that they are being encouraged to do so by their parents, pastors, and peers.

Eventually, I realized that my romantic visions of J— and Jesus were illusions. I had made them up in my head. They didn’t exist in the real world. I wasn’t in love with either of them as much as I was in love with my own imagination. Eventually, I had to say goodbye to both of my imaginary friends and move on with my life. Eventually, I grew up. But it took me a lot longer than it should have.

- writerdd

Spirituality Without Superstition

Published
by
writerdd
on March 29, 2008
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Big BangThere are many sources of spirituality; religion may be the most common, but it is by no means the only. Anything that generates a sense of awe may be a source of spirituality. Science does this in spades. – Michael Shermer, The Soul of Science

I am an atheist, a person with a naturalistic world view, free of supernatural, metaphysical, and paranormal forces. Can I understand what it means to be spiritual? Can I write about spirituality? Can I claim to be a spiritual person? I was recently challenged to think about these questions when I attended a reading of at the in Las Vegas.

For many people, the word spiritual is closely tied to the concept of religion and the belief in a personified God, a father figure looking out for his children as he reigns in heaven. For others, the word spiritual brings up images of the New Age movement, séances, auras, Tarot cards, and crystal energy. Still others think of Zen Buddhism, meditation, yoga, the Tao Te Ching, and other Eastern traditions. Yes, people following these paths do consider themselves to be spiritual. But that does not mean that those of us who are skeptics and brights cannot dip into the well of spirituality to quench our own thirst for mystery and meaning.

Spirituality is not a result of belief in the supernatural. It arises naturally out of human consciousness. Three and a half billion years of evolution has built the need for meaning and purpose into human beings. It is as real as our need to breathe. The word spirit comes from the Latin word spiritus, meaning breath. When the Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic words for breath, translated as soul and spirit in the Bible, were first used, people thought that the physical breath going in and out of our bodies through our noses and mouths was the source of life. Over time, the definition of spirit changed from literal breath to the idea of a non-physical life force. Although many of us no longer believe that ethereal spirits animate our bodies or that ghostly souls inhabit our brains, every breath we take reminds us of the wonder of life and gives rise to the to the feeling that we have a purpose to fulfill.

“Spirituality is a way of being in the world, a sense of one’s place in the cosmos, a relationship to that which extends beyond ourselves,” Michael Shermer writes in The Soul of Science. A friend of mine, author Jane Kirkpatrick, says, “Spirituality is a clarity of life framed by the awareness of death.” Both of these definitions speak about our humanity, about our place in the universe, and about how we can live with dignity and intention. Both sides of spirituality—experiencing transcendence through the beauty of the universe and finding purpose in our short lives here on earth—can be practiced by skeptics and believers alike.

In writing about spirituality, I find myself wondering if I am unintentionally empowering religious extremists by embracing their words. I’m not sure if those of us who do not believe in a personified deity should use the words that religions use at all. When I use the terms “spiritual,” “transcendence,” and “miracle,” as metaphors, am I causing confusion? Can spirituality be explained without using the terms of religious experience?

I have no answer to these questions, but neither do I have other words to explain the feeling of a fiery sunset, the satisfaction of living a purposeful life, or the amazing fact that I exist to think about these things.

The path may not be easy, and the goal may sometimes seem impossible to reach, but regardless of what we call it, mystery and meaning are available to all who seek to live a spiritual life.

- writerdd

Further Reading:

The Soul of Science by Michael Shermer. The Skeptics Society, Altadena, CA. 2006.

The Van Gogh Blues by Eric Maisel, PhD. Rodale, New York, NY. 2002.

A New Christianity for a New World by John Shelby Spong. Harper Collins, San Francisco, CA. 2001.

Truly Experiencing The Wonders Of Nature

Published
by
writerdd
on March 25, 2008
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mountain1A few years ago, my husband and I drove from Colorado to Nevada. I was enthralled by the rock formations along the way, particularly in Utah. Yellow, red, green, and purple hues covered the mountainscape like watercolor paints gently brushed onto a canvas. The soft colors were in stark contrast to the rugged shape of the landscape. In some places, jagged cliffs predominated. In others, formations of hard rocks were balanced on top of softer stone that had eroded leaving the impression that the landscape had been chiseled away by an ancient Michelangelo. Still other sections were filled with flowing rock formations that looked like piles of sand had slowly broken off of the surface of the mountain and slipped down around its ankles like a crumpled silk robe.

The beauty of the mountains alone is enough to inspire awe, but learning about geology and understanding that millions of years of erosion have sculpted layers of sedimentary rock into the buttes, mesas, and curvaceous canyons I saw along the highway deepened my appreciation for the scenery.

When I was younger and a born again Christian, my curiosity about nature was stifled by the belief that the earth is only 6,000 years old and that the entire universe had been created by God in six days.

Although that belief eventually made the universe seem small and claustrophobic to me, at the time, I found solace and inspiration in the idea of creation, and experienced reverie singing songs such as this:

Morning sun light of creation
Grassy fields a velvet floor
Silver clouds a shimmering curtain
He’s designed a perfect world…

Bless the Lord who reigns with beauty
Bless the Lord who reigns with wisdom and with power
Bless the Lord who reigns my life with so much love
He can make a perfect heart

— A Perfect Heart, Reba Rambo

This song has emotional impact for many people who believe in God, and the sentiment resounds for me today, even though I am no longer a believer. The birth of a baby, a pink and purple sunrise, ocean waves crashing on the shore, the mew of a tiny kitten, a butterfly lighting on a zinnia, the rings of Saturn, a grizzly catching salmon in a cold Alaskan river—all of these things truly are wondrous and astonishing. Yet Ebola virus, mile-wide tornadoes, athlete’s foot, earthquakes, tsunamis, avalanches, mosquito bites, and death reveal that the world is not perfect after all.

Without an understanding of the true nature of the universe and the processes by which magnificent mountains are formed, delicate flowers bloom, and frightening viruses evolve, for me the universe became a flat canvas painted by the hand of a limited, albeit talented, artist. When I left Christianity and began to view the world through the lens of scientific fact, I found that my ability to appreciate the beauty in nature was magnified and came into focus the way the moons of Jupiter appear through the lens of a powerful telescope. Learning about biology, evolution, physics, and astronomy made everything just a bit more wondrous.

As I read books about science, I began once again to experience the joy and excitement of learning that was common for me when I’d been a young child. Knowledge gave me the ability to see beneath the surface superficiality of everyday objects and look deep inside to see the molecules, atoms, and quarks as the mysterious and invisible workings of nature were revealed by the lens of a microscope. With this microscopic vision, I saw in the cells of my body not just water and salt, but pairs of tiny dancers twisted and folded into the most beautiful positions any ballerina could ever master. In the graceful double-helix of DNA, every cell of my body carries a memory of my ancestors and their ancestors before them. A reminder, not only of loved ones who have passed on, but also of the miracle that a creature such as myself would evolve to think about the question of spirituality.

Despite its imperfections, nature inspires me with its unbounded beauty. From the largest galaxy to the smallest particle, I am constantly amazed by this universe in which we find ourselves. Although I no longer look to any god to provide direction for my life, I still find myself longing to have a perfect—or at least a caring—heart.

- writerdd

Creating Our Own Purpose Driven Life

Published
by
writerdd
on March 21, 2008
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Creating PurposeI don’t believe in an afterlife, so every second of my time on earth is precious. The years remaining in my life provide the only chance I will have to fulfill my potential and make a difference. The people I love are to be cherished in the here and now for there will be no reunions in another realm. The suffering and pain on earth must be alleviated today because there is no happy ever after in the sky. Beauty is to be admired and appreciated now because tomorrow it will fade away. I must make meaning in life every day, because there is no-one providing a purpose for me to fulfill.

When I was a Christian, I wanted to believe that God endowed the universe with purpose and my personal life with meaning. I spent time every day reading the Bible to discover God’s purpose in the universe. I spent time praying every day to discover God’s will for my individual life. I was not alone in my search. Similar beliefs were held by most people for much of history and went largely unchallenged until nineteenth century philosophers began to consider the possibility that the universe and human life had no built-in meaning. For centuries science had been moving humanity further away from its prized position at the center of the universe.

After Galileo discovered that the Earth is not the center of the Solar System and Darwin revealed that humans had evolved from earlier primate ancestors, it was no longer possible to consider that humanity deserved any special place of honor. The answers that satisfied ancient philosophers who had very little knowledge about the workings of nature are no longer relevant to those of us living in the twenty-first century. Even believers know this is true. Some subconsciously hide from this knowledge by burying themselves in a reactionary fundamentalism that claims to provide pre-packaged meaning in an attempt to fend off modernity, while others bravely face the future looking for ways to make meaning through their religion in the face of postmodern meaninglessness. Those of us who are not believers have it a little easier, but it is still sometimes difficult to face the fact that the universe exists for no reason.

If the universe has no ultimate purpose, does that render our individual lives meaningless? I must answer with a resounding “NO!” Although meaning is not provided to us, we humans are uniquely qualified to make our own meaning and to find fulfillment through the act of living purposefully.

Our most basic purpose is to survive, as individuals and as a species. Evolution has given us, as it has every other species, the tools and drive to pursue this purpose. But mere survival no longer satisfies our need for meaning. Both the beautiful and ugly sides of human nature are the results of natural selection and evolution. Consciousness and culture give us the ability to cultivate the beautiful and weed out the ugly.

Selfishness, sexism, racism, and even homophobia may have provided survival benefits to early humans living in small bands and tribes, when our numbers were so few that it was important for every woman to bear children and for those children to be fiercely protected against all possible forms of harm from outsiders. But generosity, selflessness, philanthropy, and community also provided survival benefits as culture developed and eventually became more important than physical evolution in humanity’s journey. These traits are rewarded by our own bodies, as the pleasure centers in our brains are activated when we cooperate with our neighbors and colleagues, bond with our partners, and nurture our children.

The evolution of these physical characteristics has led to our search for meaning and given us the ability to look beyond our basic biological needs and instincts to choose a higher path. There is always someone to help, something to improve, something to hope for. That’s why meaning will never run out as long as humanity survives as a species. If we get discouraged trying to save the world, we can help our neighbor’s daughter with her homework. If we feel useless stuffing envelopes for a political campaign, we can volunteer at a soup kitchen on Thanksgiving. If our children are grown and have moved away, we can give time and money to a local charity. As we move from helping ourselves, to helping our families, neighbors, and societies, finally to helping our species and even our world, we find that our need for meaning is met by our own choices and actions.

There are many worthy causes and many ways to find meaning in life. Eventually each one of us must come to recognize those causes that are closest to our own hearts and those issues that arouse our strongest passions. These may change many times over the course of a lifetime. Some people find meaning in raising a family, others in pursuing a career, and still others in charity work, volunteering, creating art, public service, and many other spheres.

Every day we must search our hearts to find out what it is that gives us meaning and to find a way to fulfill our purpose while we attend to the needs of our families, work to make a living, struggle to keep up with our daily responsibilities, and are bombarded with negative news.

- writerdd