How Could Anyone Disagree?

I have grown quite accustomed
To freethinking sorts
So I’m used to the things that we say
The atheist angle
On latest reports
Or our spin on the news of the day;
A breadth of opinion
(It’s quite a broad mix)
And a thorough review of the laws
With proper attention
To article six
And of course, the establishment clause
When political figures
(The folks we’ve elected)
Are shown to be pandering fools
And it’s clear they don’t care
That all rights are protected
When Christian majority rules
…And I think to myself,
“It’s so blatant; so clear;
How could any clear mind disagree?”
But a couple of clicks
And reality’s here:
It’s depressing and grim. Look and see.

So, yeah. You’ve likely seen coverage of the struggle for atheist chaplains around the atheist blogosphere. I’ve written about it a number of times, as have others on FtB and Patheos, and on unaffiliated atheist and legal blogs. It has also been covered, a bit less well, by the major media outlets–the comments there are fascinating, because they are so broad; you see people who argue with their hearts or their tribes first, those who don’t care what the law is, but what is right (this goes for people on both sides of the issue), and people who really know their constitutional law (and a small minority who know their right-wing talking points version of constitutional law; these are easily identified by their cries of “separation of church and state is not found in the constitution!” and “it’s freedom OF religion, not freedom FROM religion!”).

Even the Blaze, clearly opposed to atheist chaplains, has a handful of commenters who doggedly argue that true patriots and constitutional conservatives must accept that the government has no right to side with religion on this issue, that the constitution is clear–no religious test, and no establishment of religion.

My reading habits kept me in this bubble–I guess I thought that, maybe, Fox News or the Blaze were as concentrated populations of social conservatives as you might get. I was wrong. This is why I use an aggregator–to expose me to stuff I would not seek out on my own. Whereas the atheist blogosphere was admiring the courage of the young man who confronted Representative Burgess at an event in Texas, the good people at The Right Scoop title their story “GOP Rep. smacks down atheist college student who thinks the Army should have secular chaplains“. Ok, it’s not actually a story, but just the video you have probably already seen. These folks got it via the Blaze. But the story is not the important part–the comments are. I don’t know whether these people delete comments that disagree… but there aren’t any. It takes a lot to make the Blaze look reasonable, but these folks do it.

I know how easy it is to fall into the echo chamber trap–to read and watch only the sources that you agree with, and that support your views. Thing is, if you don’t subject your views to scrutiny, how do you know how they hold up against the real world? It is, at least in theory, every bit as easy for me to hear only what I want to, as it is for the Right Scoop commenters to stay in their echo chamber (the sites linked in their sidebar are a further demonstration). But it’s not good for your thinking.

There are arguments claims in their comments that are quite simply counterfactual, flimsy straw-people that would disintegrate in the slightest breeze… so that community invests quite a bit of effort in hermetically sealing their views. (And yes, I have seen similarly poor arguments on our side–but as a general rule, we also have people who really seem to enjoy tearing apart fallacies and skewering straw-men, even when they agree with the writers.)

Anyway, sorry for rambling–as Pascal said, I lacked the time to make it short. Classes start soon, and I must prioritize other things than this blog. Your take-away? Don’t just read the stuff you already agree with… or you’ll end up as ignorant as The Right Scoop.

If You Dig A Little Deeper…

It’s a horrid, hateful message—
Well, it is, upon its face—
If you dig a little deeper
That is clearly not the case.

We should not condemn the godless
Though, of course, we really could
If you dig a little deeper
Many atheists are good

When I say that you are hopeless
That your life is pure despair
If you dig a little deeper
What I’m saying is, “I care”

When I say you have no values
That you’re selfish at the core
If you dig a little deeper
It’s not you that I deplore

With no ultimate morality
There’s no “good” for them to choose
When you dig a little deeper
These are atheism’s views

I’m not saying you’re inhuman
I’m just worried for your souls

If you dig a little deeper….
What’s the first rule about holes?

In my new favorite bad article misunderstanding atheism and atheists, a Jeff Jarrett defends the anti-atheist billboard near St. Joseph, MN. The billboard, which you may have read about, simply says “With atheism, there is no hope, only despair.” That’s it. In quotes, without attribution.

Given the billboard’s prior messages, one might assume the new message was intolerant of the atheist world view. If one digs a bit deeper, it’s clear this is not the case.

Of course not. Why, this is simply a distillation of what all atheists must believe.

The billboard synthesizes the philosophical conclusion that every person must face if atheism is true. This is not to say that all atheists “live” or should live in despair. Far from it!

Most atheists I know are quite good people. Some would say they are morally good people. The problem has come to be known as the “human predicament.” It isn’t the theologian who came to this conclusion, but the existentialist who, without God, could not find ultimate significance, value or purpose in life.

We’ve seen this claim before. Oh, and the author is responding to comments, doubling down on his emphasis of “ultimate” significance. Certainly, we can make our own significance, and we do so. But we cannot find “ultimate significance, value or purpose” without god. We’ve seen that, too–although we so often find that the truths relayed to us by omnipotent, omniscient deities disagree with truths relayed to others by the same or other omnipotent, omniscient deities. With thousands of religious sects to choose from, which set of absolute truths is absolutely true? Good thing we have a god to tell us how to think, cos otherwise, we’d have to work it out for ourselves.

(Parenthetically, I had a wonderful risotto last night–thanks for the cooking tips, Comradde Physioproffe–with sweet sausage from locally farmed pasture-raised pig. That pig, it must be noted, had an ultimate purpose, imposed on it from without. Having a purpose that you do not create for yourself is not necessarily a good thing. The author’s boast of an objective, god-imposed morality, even if true, are no cause to rejoice.)

Back to the editorial:

For in atheism, good and evil do not exist; only your tastes and mine. Modern man faces this today in believing that he is the arbiter of morality based on the changes in taste, preferences and morays of the group. As the father of an 8-month-old, I cannot fathom being consistent in a world view to teach him that anything is permitted.

Actually, this is only true if you see good and evil as inextricably linked to a god; you see, more properly, his first sentence should simply have said “a god or gods do not exist”. Good and evil (that is, things which a community can agree are good or are evil) do exist–that is, we know what one another mean by it. They are useful terms, to the extent that we agree on them. I don’t know of any atheists who would agree with the claim “anything is permitted”. We just don’t outsource the justification.

Is there an objective standard for morality, even for atheists? I believe so. And that objective standard is the real world. That which we call good and bad (and this certainly includes what religions call good and bad) is that which, in hindsight, has proven to be adaptive in the long run. Treating others kindly, far from being selected against by “nature red in tooth and claw”, is a long term survival strategy. Saving for a rainy day is good; treating others honestly is good; washing your hands is good… because these things help us, and keep our genes around.

But here’s the thing. The real world changes. The real world has different environments, with different characteristics. Predictably, different areas of the world end up with different “ultimate moralities”. Well, predictably, unless you base your prediction on one single omniscient, omnipotent deity with one set of moral standards for all of humanity. For me, I’d much rather have a morality that is responsive to the real world.

In a universe without God, the universe runs its course and ultimately will cease to exist. Your life and my life are no different than that of my dog, Cocoa. We were here, then we were not.

In atheism, one must create ultimate purpose. But if your idea of ultimate purpose is different than mine, who is right? It’s obvious that without God, the universe and our lives hold no purpose.

Yes, the universe will run its course and ultimately will cease to exist. This is the truth. Would you have us believe a lie? Mind you, we’ll all be long gone before the sun explodes, let alone the heat death of the universe, so the question has little real bearing on us. (Of course, in one view of objective morality, by the time this happens, those among us who did not believe in and swear allegiance to the right deity in the right manner will all be just beginning an eternity of burning in a lake of fire, so maybe non-existence isn’t so bleak. I don’t have any bad memories of before I was born, after all.)

The logical consequences of atheism elicit emotion because to live consistently as an atheist is untenable. Grasping these truths put me on the narrow path that is brightly lit, not by me, but by the sacrifice, love and grace of Jesus Christ.

Frankly, this is a lie. Whether deliberate or not, there is no logical pathway from “atheism’s consequences are scary” to “therefore, Jesus“. You need positive evidence–ok, no, you don’t need it, cos there’s no law that says you have to be logical, or even rational. The truth is, the author is part of a Christian community, and believes for the same reasons most people do–because that’s what those around him do. He has his community’s distorted view of the sterile life of the everyday atheist, and for some reason thinks he’s not insulting us by sharing it. That’s all it is, when you dig a little deeper.

He needs to remember the first rule of holes.

Feelings And Actions

He felt he was in love again—so many years had passed
And every time he saw her face, his heart would beat so fast

It happened out in public—you could see it all along
But surely, it was out of love, and could not, thus, be wrong

He never hid his feelings—he was sure to let them show
And because he signed her paychecks, well, she couldn’t tell him ‘no’

He never went ‘too far’, of course—that anyone could tell
And if she felt uncomfortable, she hid it very well

He always was a charmer—he never was a jerk
He loved the way her hair would gleam, and she? She needed work.

He acted out of love, you see—it couldn’t be his fault
He saw it as a friendship… but she saw it as assault.

There is no end to the “advice” given to the victims of sexual harassment and assault. They should have done this differently, or that differently, or worn different clothes, or not smiled, or smiled more, or not been so friendly, or not so distant, or any of dozens of other mutually impossible things. So you can look for that advice elsewhere. This is for the people who are actually at fault.

I had a friend who engaged in sexual harassment. I was there when it happened, and did not see it. This advice is your chance to learn from my mistake. (The harassed woman did go to my friend’s supervisor, and he was disciplined and counseled, and the situation was resolved to her satisfaction. All of which I learned about much later, when I learned that what I had been witnessing was, in fact, harassment.)

My friend openly confided that he was utterly smitten with X. They seemed to have a great working relationship. She was working in his lab, on an honors project, gathering and crunching data. He was her advisor. I could go into more detail, but I’d rather not.

Now, it is entirely possible that he knew exactly what he was doing, and was deliberately manipulating the situation–including my own perceptions of what was happening–to his own end. That is quite possible. But I’m going to assume, for now, that what he told me was honest, was his very real reaction, and that he had no intention of harm whatsoever.

He was still in the wrong. He was still harassing, creating a hostile workplace, and perhaps more. It was not up to her to make his boundaries clear; he was in a position of power over her. It does not matter what his motivation was; what matters is his behavior, and his behavior was inappropriate.

Our culture thrives on stories of motivation, especially the ultimate motivation, love. Romantic comedies show us that stalking is ok, as long as it is for true love (which will be rewarded in the final reel). The old fogeys among us might remember what a cultural event it was when Luke and Laura got married; they met, of course, when he raped her. Love conquers all.

No, it doesn’t. It doesn’t matter that my friend was in love (or claimed to be–for today’s purposes, I am assuming he is being honest). Actions do not have to be motivated by a desire for control, or power, or dominance; behavior does not have to reflect misogyny, or hatred, or disdain. The road to criminal behavior may be paved with the best of intentions.

Motivation is no excuse. Don’t search your feelings; look at your behavior. If you are in a privileged position, it is never up to your subordinate to set limits. By the time someone corrects your behavior, you have gone too far.

His case is what changed my thinking on this–I hope that, in a similar situation, I would now know better. I did nothing at the time, because I saw nothing. I was looking at his motivation, not at his behavior. I was wrong.

Learn from my mistake.

Very Much OK

…Oklahoma, that is.

No time for a big post, but I wanted to direct you to a very nice newspaper piece from the Oklahoma Gazette: Atheism increasingly finds a home in the Bible Belt.

Oklahoma is home to more than 6,500 churches. It’s also home to one of the largest atheist meet-up groups in the U.S.

That latter fact might seem incongruous in a state often characterized as the buckle of the Bible Belt. But some experts suggest the large numbers of self-described atheists aren’t so surprising.

“I am a native Oklahoman, and I have found that while Oklahoma is a conservative state with a strong religious presence, it is a state that has a very fierce independent spirit,” said Charles A. Kimball, director of Religious Studies at the University of Oklahoma. “There’s a lot of respect for diversity, and that includes religious diversity, in this state.”

What follows is a thorough and very positive report on the state of atheists in the state of Oklahoma (with a nod to the rest of the country as well). Worth a read.

Point B

Congratulations! I’m glad to see
You’ve struggled your way from point A to point B
(If you happened to get there via X, Q, or G,
And stumbled, or fell, or perhaps skinned your knee,
The point is, you made it, I hope you agree.)

You’ll have your detractors. Don’t listen to those
Who would tell you, you should have been pointing your toes
Or you should have just stayed and tried holding your nose.
Or maybe you should have worn different clothes—
There is no way to win, in some eyes, I suppose

But you did! You emerged at point B from point A,
Past the pitfalls and traps that might lead you astray
(And of course, there are some who are still on their way)
The persnickety people who judge you today
Though they talk quite a lot, they have nothing to say

So whether it’s fortitude, whether it’s luck
You are out of the quicksand, the mud, and the muck
You are now at point B, where at A you were stuck.
Those awful detractors, who sit there and cluck?
If you like, you can tell them you don’t give a fuck.

Alas, now I need a Dr. Seuss. I can even picture the illustration…

This verse started out with a title–a title I didn’t end up using, because the verse went a different way. They do that, sometimes. The title was “point B is the new point A”–the idea is, you make a plan to get from where you are (point A) to a particular goal (I think you can guess). The trick is, life sometimes gets in the way, and you find yourself at point C, or F, or Zed. At which point, it is easy to panic. Do you make your way back to A? Do you give up?

What I find helpful, is to re-define A. Where you are, is A. Where you are now is always where you will be coming from. If life knocks you off your path and you find yourself at point F, F is the new A. Plan a course from there. Yes, it may be easiest to go back to A–but not always. You may have learned something in getting to F, and you can use that.

And when you do get to point B (congratulations!), you will find that B is the new A. It’s (with any luck) a nicer point A than the last one, with a better view and more options. But whether it’s a stopping place, or a springboard, is up to you.

Inspired by quite a lot of things, over quite a lot of time, but particularly by Dana’s excellent post today.

Ah, So *That’s* Where The Fat Went!

A rack of ribs; a leg of lamb;
A turkey roast; a marbled ham;
The fat? We’d gladly eat it!
The drippings from the roasting pan
We use for gravy, quite by plan—
For flavor, you can’t beat it.

But now, our culture’s seen a change
And eating fat is more than strange
When folks are on a diet
Though sugar may be worse by far
Fat gets the blame, so people are
Reluctant, now, to try it

In vain attempts to be more svelte,
The fat we hate, we simply melt
And pour it down the sink
Where does it go? It goes “away”
And more than that, we cannot say
Because we do not think.

The fat collected as we cook?
It’s down the drain, without a look;
Our thoughts end with our meals
But in the sewers, fat gets cold;
Beneath our streets, we now are told
It naturally congeals

A city’s worth of melted lard
Starts cooling down and turning hard
We know what comes of that:
Stalagmites of a lipid sort,
And one, we hear by last report,
That’s fifteen tonnes of fat

Of course, there’s much that we can do
To help prevent these bergs of goo,
The sewer gods explain:
It’s time for people to begin
When cutting fat, to toss it in
The bin, not down the drain!

A Thames Water press release has a very practical warning, illustrated by an extraordinary discovery. The warning? Don’t pour melted fat down your drain (they make this plea each year during the holiday season, I hear, when so many families simultaneously dump the fat from a roast turkey, ham, or yak, down the drain), because it will congeal and clog your pipes.

The discovery? A fifteen ton tonne “fatberg” (pic at the link–worth seeing):

“Given we’ve got the biggest sewers and this is the biggest fatberg we’ve encountered, we reckon it has to be the biggest such berg in British history.
“The sewer was almost completely clogged with over 15 tonnes of fat. If we hadn’t discovered it in time, raw sewage could have started spurting out of manholes across the whole of Kingston.
“It was so big it damaged the sewer and repairs will take up to six weeks.

Nearby residents were unable to flush their toilets, and the investigation led to the fatberg’s discovery.

Remind me, next Thanksgiving, to thank the people whose job it is to go down into the sewers in such cases of emergency. 15 tons of rancid fat is, frankly, nasty, but when the system is working perfectly these people are going down into the sewers to check on a city’s worth of waste.

So consider this a public service announcement: Next time you cut the fat from your dinner, dispose of it in the trash, not down the drain. Or do what I do, and cook with it, eat it eagerly, and enjoy it immensely.

(Cuttlecap tip to Ed Yong, via twitter.)

Why Don’t You Just Believe?

No one can see Him
No one can hear Him
He’s beyond our mere, limited scope
He exists beyond matter
Beyond space, beyond time
Where mortal man never may grope
His Mind is omniscient;
His reach is so vast,
Our senses just cannot conceive
The least of His traits
Is beyond comprehension…
So why don’t you folks just believe?

Back on August 1st, PZ linked to my post on presuppositional arguments for god, and disagreed with it slightly. In that disagreement, I think he (again, slightly) misrepresented some of the believers’ claims. I commented there, “But if we presuppose that the apparent natural order of things is the result of a god who keeps things looking like there is no god, the inability to detect some supernatural glitch in natural order is absolutely consistent with the god you have presupposed.“, to which PZ commented:

If you postulate an invisible god whose machinations are completely undetectable and further, are completely indistinguishable from natural, unguided processes (angels are very careful and precise in their steering and acceleration of apples that are detached from tree branches) then sure, we can’t argue against such a god experimentally. But we can argue against such a god epistemologically. How does the person who claims such a god exists know it? What tests did that person carry out to obtain this knowledge of the perfectly invisible god?

While I agree with this, completely, it misstates the believers’ view once again. So Imma try one more time, and then point out that it really doesn’t matter.

First, the try. It is not that the angels are behind each instance of apple-falling, but rather that the whole reason gravity (and other observable physical laws) are seen to have order, is that God made it so. Without a God, the argument goes, we’d have utter chaos, and no physical laws at all for us to observe (meaning, of course, that we would also not be here to observe them). So it is not necessarily the case that God is constantly intervening (yes, there is no shortage of those who claim this–their claims are completely testable, and to the extent that they have been tested they have failed resoundingly), but rather that the ordered physical world we are able to observe is the result of God’s past actions (back before we were there to witness, of course). No current intervention is necessary. Such a god, of course, cannot be falsified, but also cannot be proved by observation or evidence. If one assumes this God, one cannot disprove him. If one assumes no God, one does not need him.

But of course, the bulk of PZ’s comment is what matters, and where he is dead right. “How does the person who claims such a god exists know it? What tests did that person carry out to obtain this knowledge of the perfectly invisible god?” There is no reason whatsoever that such a god should ever have been assumed–at least, no reasons that can be credited to that god. We can look to history and see the anthropology, sociology, and psychology of religion–as a form of government (that is, a means by which to control people), as a tribal identifier, as a costly signal, as any number of functional, worldly things. All the reasons for belief in god are in the real world. Which means, none of them have anything to do with this god, which must necessarily first be assumed to exist, to have any hope of logically existing.

But of course, billions do assume their god exists. And, overwhelmingly, they call him Him (thus the gendered language in my verse, against my wishes). Which allows us a bit of a test, since this puts us back in the realm of the empirical. And the test is simple: Do these believers agree? They are positing universal truths about an omnipresent being (well, at least some of them are); are they converging on a common answer?

Well, there, at least, should be an answer we can agree upon fairly easily.

Mortality, And Blue Glowing Worms

Observing dying worms, we see
A glowing blue mortality
Beginning in the head—
It spreads, still glowing, gradually,
And with the light, eventually,
C elegans is dead.

The genes that moderate this show
Are widely shared, and so we know
That people have them too
And when it’s time to let life go
The worms that eat us, soon must glow
Thus dying leaves us blue

A nice story on NPR, on research on the process of dying. A naturally occurring fluorescence marks the biological process of death in C elegans, and studying the process is leading to a new understanding of aging and death. And in truth, the process is beautiful. (You may remember, I’ve written a bit on death and worms before.)

Oddly enough, the discussion at NPR’s story is actually thoughtful and respectful. (Mostly. It is, after all, still the internet.)

Those Poor, Needy Christian Millennials!

Rachel Held Evans has another opinion piece up–why millennials need the church– at CNN, and it’s worse than the last one. Apparently, there are at least seven things millennials (at one point she does limit it to what “Christian millennials” need, but not consistently) need: Baptism, Confession, Healing, Leadership, Communion, Confirmation, and Union with Christ.

On Baptism…

In a culture that stresses individualism, the church satisfies the human need for community, for shared history and experiences.

And in a world where technology enables millennials to connect only with those who are like-minded, baptism drags us – sometimes kicking and screaming as infants – into the large, dysfunctional and beautiful family of the church.

So we need a community to share, but since technology lets us hang out with those who are like-minded, we need to join a church to be exposed to people who don’t think like we do.

Wait, what?

Schools expose us to people who don’t think like us (well, sometimes–and some churches don’t much like the idea. See the current Texas board of education for a relevant example; schools should be teaching us the things we already believe); churches, in theory, are deliberately organized around a common creed (otherwise, why would any town need more than one church?). Move to a new community, and it’s time for church-shopping, to see which one you fit in with.

And don’t get me started on the “sometimes kicking and screaming as infants”.

I am a part of many different communities–some online and some off. I have close friends, both online and off. I can see where the church could provide community, but if I want that sort of tribalism, I’ll go cheer against the Steelers for the Browns.

On Confession…

“Sin” is not a popular word these days, perhaps because it is so often invoked in the context of judgment and condemnation.

But like all people, millennials need reminding now and then that the hate and violence we observe in the world is also present within ourselves.

While she speaks of the value of accountability, of how the church’s community helps us with our concerns over “materialism, greed, gossip, anger, consumerism and pride”, there’s not a word about, say, the guilt and shame some millennials feel because of the judgment and condemnation of the church, just for who they happen to love. The hate and violence we observe in the world is more abundant because the church is so successful at creating, and then blaming, sinners.

On Healing…

At their best, local churches provide basements where AA groups can meet, living rooms where tough conversations about racial reconciliation occur, casseroles for the sick and shelter for the homeless.

At their worst, they block access to life-saving procedures, even for those who do not follow their tenets.

On Leadership…

Like a lot of millennials, I am deeply skeptical of authority – probably to a fault.

But when I interact with people from my church who have a few years and a lot of maturity on me, I am reminded of how cool it is to have a free, built-in mentoring and accountability program just down the street.

Me, I have to cross the street and talk to my neighbor. Or speak with a colleague down the hall. Or get online and find someone who has worked extensively on the issue and has genuine expertise. I mean, yeah, it’s easier to find answers when I have fewer people to ask, and they are all leaning toward the same view in the first place, and when I don’t have to worry about their qualifications, but still…

On Communion…

Churches may disagree on exactly how Christ is present in these sacred meals, but we agree that Christ is present. And millennials, too, long for that presence.

There are some days when the promise of Communion is the only thing that rouses me from bed on Sunday morning. I want a taste of that mystery.

Ok, frankly, that last bit is kinda creepy. Her craving for communion is frankly alien to me–I really don’t get it. I guess the closest thing I can see to it is (and I have done this) having a drink in remembrance of a lost friend. But of course, I can do that, and need no priest to act as a go-between.
(and see what I meant about “millennials” instead of “Christian millennials”?)

On Confirmation…

“What you promise when you are confirmed is not that you will believe this forever. What you promise when you are confirmed is that that is the story you will wrestle with forever.”

The church, at its best, provides a safe place in which to wrestle with this story we call the Gospel.

There’s a better place. The library. Or even the internet. When you buy a car, would you rely solely on the word of the salesweasel? Certainly, it is in the best interest of the church for you to hear all the reasons you should stay. But is it in your best interest?

On Union with Christ…

Those who follow Jesus long for the day when their communion with him becomes complete, and Jesus promises this will happen through the church.

Mind you, he promised that this would happen within the lifetime of some of his disciples, so…

No matter what the latest stats or studies say, Christians believe the future of the church is secure and not even “the gates of hell” will prevail against it.

Ah, here’s the rub. “Why millennials need the church” is based on an assumption that flies in the face of the “latest stats or studies”. The truth is, millennials are realizing in greater and greater numbers that they do not need the church.

For me, and for my millennial kids, there is no “need” for the church. Sure, it may provide community. “The church, at its best”, as the author is always careful to say, is most assuredly appreciated by a great many people.

Problem is, the church isn’t always at its best.

It’s true that the atheist birds of a feather
Don’t gather in churches–the more is their loss;
The warmth of community, gathered together
For singing, and praying, and burning a cross.
(oops. wrong example.)

The monks in their abbeys, preserving the writing
Of ancients, when everyone’s future was black;
They strove for salvation, while kindly inviting
The godless among them to stretch on the rack.
(dang. wrong example again.)

The New World and Africa, ignorant, dismal,
Called for new Missions, converting each brother;
Heathens were called–they could choose their baptismal–
Christ’s blood or their own; it’s one or the other.
(crap. I suck at this.)

When people are gathered, they still remain people,
They’re good and they’re bad, both alone and in unity
You can meet in a bar, just as under a steeple
Good and bad don’t depend on religious community.

Wouldn’t It Be Nice?

“Religious Values” classes have been fading from the schools
Although, strangely, their inclusion wasn’t breaking any rules
It didn’t take a lawsuit, or a dozen, or a score
Just… the Christian volunteers weren’t volunteering any more

A story out of New Zealand, with a title I wonder if I’ll live long enough to see in the US: Adherence to religion falling fast.

For generations of pupils at Midhirst’s closeknit primary school, the weekly routine included half an hour of religious instruction.

“No-one ever opted out and the children loved it,” principal Stuart Beissel says.

“Things have changed over the years. We don’t have all the people going to church any more, but I think people still hold the basic values of the Bible.”

But after decades without interruption, religious instruction has ended at Midhirst.

“All the great people that took religious instruction moved out of the district or retired,” Mr Beissel says.

It’s a trend being seen across the country. A survey of 1800 primary and intermediate schools carried out by rationalist David Hines showed 62 state schools had dropped religious instruction since 2011, mainly because of a lack of volunteers able to teach it.

It’s quite a lengthy article, actually, which gives it the space for a really nicely thorough analysis of the situation, with the input from reasonable people all around–some who find the change alarming, and others who are actively encouraging it. This is a big social change, and that is explored as well.

“I asked a principal who just cancelled Bible In Schools – I said ‘would you say it’s biased?’ – he said it was biased by omission. They mention there are good Christians around. They don’t mention there are good Muslims and Hindus around, so they create a bias by just what they don’t say.”

The bias is not just against other religions but against those without religion – a group to which 36 per cent of the population claimed to belong in the 2006 census. Should trends continue, the 2013 census is likely to show this group has grown to 40 per cent.

This is a stunning turnaround from 1956, when just 0.5 per cent of New Zealanders indicated they had no religion. But it was in that religion-soaked climate that the Education Act 1964 was passed and it is this act that allows religious instruction in otherwise secular state schools.

I also like that the story closes with specific definitions of “secular state” and “secular education”. Such inclusions might spare a lot of rancor on sites like Fox or CNN, where it’s not so much a duel of definitions, but a mob of them.

Oh, and for those who like such things, there is a poll at the article: Do you think state schools should conduct religious instruction for primary-aged children?

But wouldn’t it be nice to have establishment clause battles cease here in the US, simply because (e.g.) nobody was motivated enough to get on the school public address system and recite a prayer?