I am a closeted agnostic. I’m not sure how and when it happened, but like it was for Julia Sweeney [see her theater piece, "Letting Go of God"], a lot of my journey was related to reading the Bible, much of which became, as it unfolded before my eyes, completely senseless as a spiritual guide. Some of it was related to comparing the church of the apostles with the church(es) we have today and the amount of non-biblical man-made encrustation that adheres to every single one of them. But mostly it has to do with the sheer edifice built around the idea of eternal life, an idea supported by not one scrap of empirical evidence.
I am a closeted agnostic. I’m not sure how and when it happened, but like it was for Julia Sweeney, a lot of it was related to reading the Bible, much of which is completely senseless as a spiritual guide. A lot of it was related to comparing the church of the apostles with the church(es) we have today and the amount of non-biblical man-made encrustation that adheres to every single one of them. But mostly it has to do with the sheer edifice built around the idea of eternal life, an idea supported by not one scrap of empirical evidence. It feels like a self-reinforcing myth, impregnable except by the fact that there is no one can say what happens after this life, and certainty in this area is not faith, but vanity and narcissism. I can have faith that my children will do well in the world, because I know something about their abilities and their character. I cannot have faith that Jupiter will collide with Mars on Thursday because there is nothing to back that up with. (Great example of this narcissism: a close friend showed me the argument in the Wisdom of Solomon that God did not create death, it was brought about by Man’s sin. So what about the death of plants and animals? Did all of them get "punished" because of our sin? What kind of irrational creepy cruel God is that? Thinking of death as punishment is going to lead you to a lot of crazy places.)
And most importantly, when I look at people in the world, what they do and don’t do—when I put God in the equation and took him out—I couldn’t see the difference. I’m not talking about people’s faith in God, which translates into love for fellow humans. That power is awesome, and has built hospitals and schools and worked miracles of peacemaking and growth. I never dispute the great works that people of faith have done in sincere devotion to their faith.
See, this is why I’m closeted. My parents’ life was built around faith and the church. They even co-founded a mission when they retired, a mission which has become a thriving church. They lived their lives in services. They are all the real deal. And I love them and respect them and honor who they are and what they did. And my wife is a sincere and devoted Christian. Next year she will be President of the Parish Council in the church where my children were baptized and raised. One of the reasons we came together to begin with is that we both wanted a Christian household, and my wife was clear that her children would be raised Orthodox Christians (I am Reformed myself, but that has never been a problem between us.) And we have been part of wonderful Christian communities.
So I am not one of those free-thinking church-haters. (That attitude has always come off a bid adolescent to me, like a child mad at a parent who proves not to be perfect.) Honestly, I envy those who feel the presence of God. It’s become so lonely without him. It was good to have that constant confidant, that sense of reassurance, that someone to thank when things went well. But the feeling has developed over the last year that I’m just talking to myself.
And there is a big hollow spot in the center of our family. My son has preceded me as an agnostic. I’m not sure about my daughter. When she first went to college, she was adamant about finding an Orthodox parish near her school. I don’t know what she’s thinking these days—perhaps we’ll talk about it when she gets home from school in a few weeks. And functions on religious holidays with the extended family have a certain hollowness to me now.
One other wrinkle—I teach English in a public high school. This may be surprising, but one’s personal feelings and beliefs often come up for discussion in an English class. Of course no good teacher presses his or her convictions on the students. But what’s difficult is my lack of clear convictions at the moment. And despite the law and the Constitution, if I was an open and avowed atheist, that could be sticky in a community with so many committed Christian families, many of whom I work with very closely on the plays and musicals.
So what about anybody else here? What has the journey been like for others here? Have you had to conceal or be reticent about these thoughts? And how do you balance it with sincere respect and love for people of faith?