[This is the first post in a long series. Like all my series, it is not necessarily contiguous—
The other day I was pondering what it means to be agnostic. I often think of myself as having that outlook, although of course it’s a slippery word that means different things to different people. Dictionary.com says:1
a person who holds that the existence of the ultimate cause, as God, and the essential nature of things are unknown and unknowable, or that human knowledge is limited to experience.
And that’s sort of what I mean when I use the term, but not exactly. I absolutely feel that there’s an aspect of “unknowable” to the universe. As evolutionary biologist J. B. S. Haldane once said:2
I have no doubt that in reality the future will be vastly more surprising than anything I can imagine. Now my own suspicion is that the Universe is not only queerer than we suppose, but queerer than we can suppose.
and I certainly agree with that sentiment. The certainty of religion has always struck me as being a bit naive; to trot out a few more quotes:
One of the painful things about our time is that those who feel certainty are stupid, and those with any imagination and understanding are filled with doubt and indecision. —
The fool doth think he is wise, but the wise man knows himself to be a fool. —
Real knowledge is to know the extent of one’s ignorance. —
To imagine that we fully grasp the nature of the universe because we’ve read a book or two that some other (equally fallible) human has designated as “holy” strikes me as the very height of human hubris. Surely the universe really is stranger than we can imagine.
On the other hand, “agnostic” is often taken to mean “indecisive.” That, rather than choosing religion or atheism, I just can’t make up my mind and am constantly dithering between the two. Interestingly enough, in my experience it is only those truly dedicated to one side or the other that seem to express this opinion.3 Well, speaking as a confirmed agnostic, I can assure that I’m not having any trouble making up my mind. It’s already made up: I believe there is some sort of force running the universe, but I don’t know what it is, and I probably never will. And I’m okay with that.
That’s what “agnostic” means to me: that, while the concept that we can understand everything there is to understand about whatever Higher Power runs the universe, and can influence Its decisions by means of arcane chants and rituals, is certainly absurd, the concept that there is no Higher Power at all and everything just happens by sheer chance is equally absurd. My experience of the world has taught me that neither of those concepts meshes with reality particularly well. So I prefer to live in the middle.
The amusing thing about being an agnostic is that you get to see both sides in an unflattering light. The devoutly religious are often dismissed by atheists as believers in fairy tales, which honestly has a grain of truth to it, but is far too haughty. Contrariwise, the entrenched atheist may be disdained by religious types as being amoral: obviously, without a Higher Power telling them right from wrong, they would have no moral compass whatsoever. And, while there may be a tiny bit of truth lurking there too, it’s an almost perversely obtuse attitude to take. What both sides seem to want to conveniently ignore is that the other side has millions (if not billions) of devotees, many of which are remarkably intelligent and learned individuals. So any explanation that involves the other side being “not too bright” or “not too principled” is severely lacking.
I admire people of faith, and I also admire atheists with strong science-based convictions. But they can go to extremes, and then it’s not as much fun being in them middle. When it’s more like being a spectator at a tennis match, watching the logical arguments fly back and forth, one can afford a wry amusement. When it’s more like cowering behind a rock while the bullets are flying, then it starts to be a bit scary. My pet name for Christian extremists is “CCFs,” which stands for “crazy Christian fucks.” This might make it sound like I have something against Christians, but nothing could be further from the truth. The majority of them are wonderful people—
So it can get tricky. When I see someone on television holding up signs saying that gay people are going to go to Hell, I can’t help but feel like that’s explicitly contrary to the message that Jesus was trying to get across when he said things like “love your enemy.” Even worse, it really undermines the whole argument that religion provides a moral code to live by and atheists are therefore amoral. If my choice is hang out with a bunch of people who have to hate entire swaths of the population because “God told them so,” suddenly the atheists are not looking so bad.
But of course the atheists have their extremists too. In 2010 the government of France outlawed burqas (among other things); this was on top of the 2004 law banning religious symbols in schools. Measures like this seem (to me) to stem from a misguided attempt to stem overt religion, on the grounds that religion breeds intolerance. Which is of course true: historically Christians in particular have been remarkably efficient in exterminating people whose religion they disagreed with, even other Christians (see e.g. the Anabaptists). If I may offer up one more quote:
To know a person’s religion we need not listen to his profession of faith but must find his brand of intolerance. —
And yet, is forbidding Christian children from wearing crosses in school the way to solve that problem? This now undermines the other side: the atheists are supposed to be the rational ones, the logical ones, the rational ones, but this starts to smack of hysteria ... and on top of everything else, it’s pointless and ineffective, as history should have taught us by now. The Romans forbade the Christians from displaying their symbols and meeting in their churches, but it doesn’t seem to have done much to stem the tide of Christianity. And then the Christians took over and tried to forbid—
So my position as a self-confessed agnostic often puts me firmly in the middle, or perhaps in a sort of no-man’s land, not really able to identify with either side. I’m often put in the position of sending out emails (or blog posts) that try to straddle this line; for instance, when writing about my son’s heart surgery, I included this line:
For those of you who know us personally—
and/or who just feel so inclined— we will gratefully accept your positive energies, be they in the form of prayers, rituals, spells, or just good vibes, should any of those be a thing you believe in.
This was a very carefully crafted sentence, one that I put a lot of thought into as regards how to best appeal to those of my friends who might be so inclined to want to pray for us—
You may recall ever so long ago that I said that I believe most fervently in balance and paradox. And that’s no less true of my approach towards spirituality than anything else ... in fact, it’s probably more true. After all, I sometimes (somewhat flippantly, granted) claim that “baladocianism” is my religion. So, as a baladocian, I certainly believe that the truth lies somewhere in between religion and atheism ... and also that they’re both true. My approach to spirituality is somewhat complex, and it’s been shaped by my experience (naturally), and, as I pondered what it meant to be agnostic, I also thought about what brought me here, and I thought that maybe it might be interesting to share that journey with you.
Next time, I explore the flavor(s) of Christianity I inherited from my parents, and where I left them along the way.
1 Dictionary.com, if you’ve ever wondered, is based on the Random House Unabridged, although it includes content from other sources as well.
2 In 1927, in Possible Worlds and Other Papers. Thank you Wikiquote.
3 Just as, in my experience, only the most staunchly heterosexual or homosexual adherents will condemn bisexuals as fence-sitters. But I suppose that’s a sentiment belonging to a very different blog post.
4 This is a mild exaggeration—