IN TWO MINDS:
The Anatomy of a Christian Hate Letter
Letter Six:
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this letter was written by Valerie Tarico
Dear
Brian,
As a former minister, you find yourself searching for the best way to talk with friends and relatives about your Christian deconversion. You look back at interactions with your friends and brother and wonder if you should have done something differently. And you ask: “If someone’s faith is working for them and others without showing toxic results, should skeptics then just avoid the religious subject altogether?”
(As
an aside, you also expressed
disappointment that your new
Christian neighbor lost interest
in friendship once he realized
that you weren’t a possible
convert. If you don’t
mind, I will address this
experience with the
“friendship missionary” in
another letter. For now,
let’s focus on your question
about yourself, what you might
have done differently, and how
to approach these conversations
in the future.)
In
our culture, perhaps in most
cultures, religious faith is
guarded by a powerful set of
taboos. Primary among these is a
taboo against questioning
assertions that are based on
religion. If someone makes
a statement about the efficacy
of Prozac or the best route to
peace in the Middle East, or the
competence of the local school
board, any of us feels like we
can respond with assertions of
our own. In fact, we often
feel free to put forth opinions
even when we know very little
about the matter at hand.
But if someone makes a religious
assertion, the rule is: If
you think what they’ve said is
mistaken or even harmful, keep
it to yourself.
Many
former believers respond to this
taboo instinctively. It
seems that you prefer to take a
public stance and hit
Christianity hard by writing
articles for your website.
Personal acquaintances know that
generally you will keep a low
profile with them about their
Christianity otherwise, unless
they decide to push the issue.
For years after my Evangelical
beliefs crumbled, I practiced a
form of “Don’t ask, don’t
tell.” But, for two reasons, I
no longer think that this is the
solution.
First,
“faith” when it is a
euphemism for beliefs without
evidentiary basis, is not
inherently benign. I am
reminded of the quote from
Voltaire, “Those who can get
you to believe absurdities, can
get you to commit atrocities.”
Time and again, history has
documented benign, peaceful
forms of Christianity flaring
into outright violence.
But even in between these dark
ages, dogmas can have a
corrosive effect on the moral
priorities of believers.
As Sam Harris has said, dogma
separates questions of morality
from real questions of
suffering. It distracts
genuinely decent people from the
real world contingencies that
govern our well-being and that
of the web of life around us.
Second,
our silence creates a tremendous
imbalance. Traditional
Christians, particularly
Evangelicals, believe they have
a divine mandate to speak openly
and frequently about their
beliefs. Their highest
moral imperative is to save
others from hell by convincing
them (kindly and graciously,
perhaps) that their beliefs
about what is real and right are
lethally mistaken. This
means that if the rest of us
honor a taboo against religious
critique and dialogue while
Christian missionaries follow a
higher calling, we end up with a
public monologue on matters of
morality and meaning.
But,
you might ask, isn’t it
possible that some forms of
Christianity in some people are
beneficial? Mightn’t
they provide a sense of internal
purpose and peace that leads
believers not only to feel good
but to do good in the world,
more than they would do
otherwise? This is not only
possible, but seems to me to be
true--of both Christianity and
most other religions.
So,
shouldn’t we leave this kind
of Christianity unchallenged?
No. I would argue
that the kinds of Christianity
that lead to personal and
community benefit without the
risk of Voltaire’s
“atrocity” often are based
in large measure on faith
rather than belief. They
have at their core the essence
of things hoped for, a humble
awareness that all theological
understandings are provisional.
Consequently, they tend to
center themselves in a set of
values and practices, rather
than a set of exclusive truth
claims. This kind of
religion doesn’t need to be
sheltered by taboos. It
participates in our collective
struggle to understand the
Reality that some of us call God
and some of us don’t.
Approached with genuine warmth,
adherents of this kind of
Christianity often are able to
see their moral and spiritual
kinship with outsiders and to
take part in learning that is
genuinely reciprocal.
What,
then, is the right role for you
and me and others like us?
I think the solution is neither
bold confrontation nor silence.
Like you, I’ve tried both.
And in my experience, like
yours, confrontation and
arguments simply don’t work,
even when we former believers
are trying to be calm and
rational. In past letters,
you and I have talked about how
brittle belief can be and why
believers need to slam doors.
But sometimes the fault is ours.
When
any of us decide to break old
taboos we tend to do so
dramatically. Think about
early feminism. Think
about young teenagers.
Think about the civil rights
movement. The first phase
of breaking free is often
empowered by an intense
defiance. Otherwise it just
wouldn’t happen. I’m
reminded of the comic book hero,
the Hulk, who must sense mortal
danger before he can transform
into a great green monster.
Then he can break through
handcuffs and prison doors and
stop all manner of evil, but he
also smashes through a lot of
ordinary buildings and offices
and cars, and he frightens
people as he goes.
We
former Christians are like good
kids who turn into
fifteen-year-old rule breakers.
We break the rules dramatically
because that’s the only way we
can know we’ve really done it.
Often we’re angry at the harm
done to us, the unnecessary
control, our own compliance with
it – and even when we try to
be calm and polite, the anger
comes through. In the
otherwise benign invitation you
sent to friends and family, most
readers probably never got past
the title of the article you
alluded to, “The God of the
Bible is a Sheep Beater.”
Similarly, my own family members
can’t get past the title of my
book, The Dark Side. I’ll
never forget a comment by my
dear Christian friend,
Katherine, who read an early
draft of my book cover to cover:
“Just because something is
true, doesn’t mean you have to
say it.”
One
of the great things about the
community at ExChristian.net is
that people can be as mad and
defiant as they need to be for
as long as they need to be.
But what works for venting
isn’t the same as what works
for communication. When we
are far enough along in our
healing and growth that we want
to participate in healing and
growing the world around us,
then a different approach is
needed.
Fortunately,
when you are breaking a taboo,
it doesn’t take much of a
break to rattle the status quo.
Sometimes all you have to do is
to have your face uncovered and
refuse to sit in the back of the
bus. Just being willing to
identify yourself as a former
Christian – and then to
continue being the decent person
that you are messes with
people’s categories.
Just being willing to say
quietly and respectfully, “I
don’t believe in gods” or
“Actually, I do believe in
coincidences” can give people
food for though. Just
being willing to say, “Hmm,
that doesn’t seem moral to
me.” Or “I think that the
universe is so wonderful it
doesn’t need supernatural
explanations” --simple
statements like these may be
enough.
The
goal is not to change
someone’s mind but simply to
let them know that within their
community there are
alternatives. The most important
thing is to ask yourself is
whether your words sound like an
invitation or an argument.
What kind of words create an
invitation depends on your
relationship with the other
person and the context.
Christians
will give you the openings by
saying things like, “I’ll
pray for you.” Or
“Praise the Lord.” Or
“God bless you.” The
presumption always is that your
silence means what they’ve
said is ok, that the rules
stand. Taking that opening
as an opportunity to say
anything that offers an
alternate view, however mild, is
radical.
Warmly,
Valerie
Want to review another letter in this series? Just click the link below.
Introduction Letter Letter 1 Letter 2 Letter 3 Letter 4 Letter 5
Valerie Tarico February 2008 All rights reserved.
posted by Brian Worley Ex-Minister.org