Think About It
Written by Anthony David Jacques in Opinion at April 22, 2012 | Discuss
I’ve noticed an interesting trend with respect to which essays, blogs, jokes or statements about religion catch the most flak. I write for An American Atheist, I have a humorous atheist tumblr, and I often post religious news items on Facebook and use a little sarcasm to give readers my take.
What’s odd, or at least unexpected, is that it’s not the quips or one-liners, the witty remarks of clever turns of phrase that get people riled up. The most heated responses almost always follow those instances where I plainly state a belief, oftentimes something I once believed myself, and then plainly state its logical consequences.
After a massive storm in the Midwest unleashed 97 tornados in just Kansas alone the other day, the governor of Kansas ended his assessment of the blind destruction by saying that, “God was merciful.” Five years ago, I may have agreed with him. Thousands die a tsunami, God was merciful by saving the rest of the populace. God floods the entire world, God was merciful by saving that one family instead of wiping us all out.
Atrocity at any magnitude could be spun by a believer such as my (former) self, and millions of other Christians, as God’s kindness and mercy. This level of cognitive dissonance is simply astounding. I recently posted such an idea on Facebook, then promptly deleted it when I realized I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with the sudden backlash that had already mounted their offensive, even though all I’d done is pointed out what I used to believe and criticized my old self.
I also recently reblogged a graphic showing a picture of the earth with little red lines flying off into space. The graphic was aimed at illustrating how praying five times a day facing Mecca is a little silly since the earth isn’t flat. Think about it. How many people have prayed facing Mecca and really their prayer flew off towards Alpha Centari or Betelgeuse? It’s kind of funny.
Yet this incited quite a few angry private messages and, oddly enough, one terribly offended fellow non-believer (who strangely advised, “If you don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say anything” only after calling me an asshole.) These people wanted me not stop being insulting, but there was no insult. I didn’t call anyone names. I just pointed out the obvious. This is what people actually believe, and these are the results.
Then there was an aside a while back about Transubstantiation, where I pointed out if one believes that a cracker blessed by a priest becomes the literal body of Christ upon ingestion, this logically leads to the digestion and excretion of one’s deity on a weekly basis.
Yet I must point out that my lack of belief in a god or god-man logically leads me to the conclusion that exactly no one is pooping out there savior every week. I don’t believe this is actually happening. Only if Transubstantiation is real would we arrive at such unsavory results. My lack of belief must be less insulting to this deity than what his followers presume to be doing.
And this has become my thesis: I suggest that the best evidence against a religious belief is oftentimes the belief itself, fully examined. Likewise, the best evidence against most scripture is the scripture itself, fully examined.
When Jesus predicts his own return within the lifetime of those in his present company, then fails to accomplish this prophecy, the only way to honestly approach such a prophecy is to call it a failure. I noticed this odd prophecy in Matthew at eight years old, and although it was certainly not the first time I’d gotten into hot water in Sunday School, it was the first time a pastor ever took the time to speak to me personally after church. He was very convincing, and I believed his theologically vapid response well into my late-twenties, when I finally risked revisiting such thoughts with an open mind.
And this is why I think people react more when, instead of making a wisecrack, I plainly state a religious belief. The painful, damning truth can remain somewhat hidden within a punch line. By laying bare what many people believe, and especially what I learned growing up in a Christian family, in Bible college and during ministry, and then pointing out the obvious results without sarcasm, there are generally two responses: We who no longer believe, and those who never have, are free to note the irony with a wry grin; And those who hold such a belief and see its consequences plainly stated are made to feel the prick of reality when such undeniable conclusions are laid bare. And this is what incites the knee-jerk reaction.
Now I’ll never understand why my fellow non-believers insist I be nice about beliefs which, at their most benign moments, lead people away from reality, and at their worst, cause senseless harm. Freeing people’s minds from delusions, whether harmful or benign, will always be a good thing. But now I think I’ve gotten hold of why people flip out most when I’m not trying to be funny.
After all, this is exactly the sort of thing that made me the most angry as a Christian. It wasn’t those people with a good sense of humor who made well-timed, slightly irreverent jokes. I loved that kind of thing. It made me feel like I was mature, that I could laugh at myself, that I had somehow arrived. The thing that bothered me most if someone said, “This is literally what you believe in. Human sacrifice. Just think about it. Face the reality of your beliefs.”
And that was the last thing I wanted to do, but honestly, I’m glad I did. I’m glad those guys took a moment from their typical humor to make me think. Because the best evidence against a religious belief is almost always the belief itself, fully examined. I’ll continue to be sarcastic when the situation calls for it, but there are times when the best approach is to just be frank. This may continue to ruffle more feathers than usual, but I believe that’s okay, so long as it also makes people think.
Think about it.
This is a follow-up to