The New Pope Says Something Nice About Atheists! Is This Really A Big Deal?

I’ve seen a lot of news stories, opinion pieces, critiques, and other buzz regarding the new pope’s comments about atheists and other non-Catholics, to this effect: that all can do good, and that doing good is what should bring us all together. Sounds nice, right?

While there are many prominent atheists, secular humanists, and others who are gladdened by the pope’s remarks, many others are skeptical or dismissive, as exemplified by participants in a recent online discussion I took part in. They point out that the Pope’s historical positions on many important issues is aligned with the officially systematized bigotry of the church he leads: opposition to gay marriage, women banned from the priesthood, and so on. With this, I agree. They also think it’s a mistake to ‘hope for acceptance’ from the Catholic Church, or that atheists are ‘eagerly’ ‘falling for’ a positive interpretation of the pope’s actual stance on atheism. This is the part of the discussion where I think it veered off into treating some hypotheticals about what the glad atheists are thinking as fact. I think the skeptical reactions may be based on misunderstanding the reasons behind the positive reaction.

My point in the discussion, and my understanding of why there was such a glad reaction to the pope’s comments, was this: the pope’s current tendency to use more peaceful and ecumenical rhetoric is more likely to inspire better behavior in his followers, who generally look to him for an example to follow, not Vatican officials who issue a legalistic statement later. So, even if it’s true that the pope is still a bigot and his church is still an organization that promotes hateful and untrue doctrines, it’s still the case that if the words that come from his mouth are of a more peaceful and ecumenical tone, those who look primarily to him as their role model are more likely to adjust their own attitudes accordingly. That’s one point. There is nothing in this having anything to do with caring whether the pope or any other church members personally approve of atheists, or whether official church doctrine has changed regarding the afterlife and how it pertains to atheists, or any of the other red herrings such as charges of ‘hoping for acceptance’ that came up in the discussion. The positive response of many atheists, especially prominent ones, focus on whether or not the pope’s words signal a positive shift in attitude, and whether his words will provide a good example to his followers.

But another point I didn’t make, which upon reflection I think is more important, is this: the single most influential moral leader in the world just publicly classified atheists (and others) in the same moral category as Christians and Catholics. Christians do good. Atheists do good too. So both are good! Big deal, an atheist, a cosmopolitan, indeed, any reasonably informed or empathetic person might say. That’s as obvious as saying: atheists think and have emotions and are competent language users, therefore, they must be human too! I mean, c’mon! Duh!

But remember: atheists have been distrusted and marginalized for so long, since most Christian religions claim that belief in Christ’s divinity is necessary for deliverance from evil, that the idea that atheists can be good people is a novel one for countless religious people all over the world. Yet these are same people who adjust their beliefs to align with the pope’s, and his words constituted a sort of permission to consider atheists and non-Christians good people too. In my own family there are still those who use the word ‘atheist’ as an epithet for one who’s wicked, stupid, or depraved! The previous pope’s hyper-conservative, dogmatic, and divisive rhetoric did nothing to help matters. This pope’s remarks, by contrast and for the first time at this level of authority and clarity that I’m aware of, places atheists in the same moral category as religious people: those who do good. It humanizes atheists for those who simply don’t understand atheists, who think atheists are evil and have rejected the good since they don’t believe in any gods. And this is important because of what we know about human psychology: people are kinder to others when they identify with them, when they think they’re on the ‘same team’, when they’re humanized and no longer ‘the other’. 

I think that the Pope, with these few remarks, just helped a whole lot of people all over the world to really believe that when it comes to doing good, most human beings believe in the same and most important thing. Thomas Paine described it best: ‘The world is my countryall mankind are my brethren, and to do good is my religion.’ (The Age of Reason, 1794) Whether the Pope himself really shares the conviction that atheists are worthy people, I think his remarks will lead a whole lot of other people to believe so.

What Does ‘Lapsed’ Mean Anyway When Referring to an Ex-Religionist?

I’ve long thought it strange to be referred to as a ‘lapsed Catholic’. I was baptized and confirmed in the Catholic religion, which I rejected in my early adulthood. 

‘Lapsed’, in pretty much every other common usage of the term, refers to a kind of just letting something go or expire, such as letting an insurance policy or subscription ‘lapse’ by forgetting to pay on time, or it could refer to simply losing interest. Many who still subscribe to the religion of their parents, either because they still actually believe in it or because they just let their membership continue (as it never occurred to them to examine their beliefs, its own brand of carelessness), are simply unaware that many who no longer believe made an active decision to reject religion, for the best of reasons. 

For myself as for so many others, rejecting the religion of my youth was a long, thoughtful, difficult, yet ultimately emancipatory and joyful process. Those who refer to me and others like me as ‘lapsed’ because they intend to imply carelessness, laziness, or lacking the strength of character necessary for satisfying religious demands, are doing us an injustice. Such dismissiveness may be simple thoughtlessness, but more often, it’s indicative of a desire to cast aspersions on deconversion (unless, of course, we’re talking about deconversion from a rival religion!). Yet, remaining within the comforting cocoon of the belief system of one’s youth, with its automatic community membership and societal approval, actually seems to me to be the easy way to go. Critiquing and then rejecting one’s beliefs out of principle is much harder, and especially so for those leaving a religion that’s enforced by threats, such as hellfire or isolation from the community. For so many of us, rejecting religion is not at all a passive thing: it’s matter of acting on logical and moral convictions and of commitment to personal integrity.

A core assumption behind religious commitment is that faith is necessary for becoming a truly good human being. Many believe that life is a test and faith is necessary for passing it, for proving one’s worthiness of redemption. Knowledge, or fact-based belief, is not enough, because faith, believing without proof, is much more difficult. The faithful, therefore, prove themselves most worthy of eternal reward. 

I know I’m not alone in thinking that this is a strange assumption. As I mentioned earlier, it seems to me that holding onto unquestioned beliefs is the easy way to go. It’s what we do when we just want to to go with the flow, to avoid conflict with friends and family, to feel that easy assurance that we’re doing all that’s really required of us. On the other hand, requiring ourselves to carefully consider and weigh the evidence before accepting a truth claim, and to examine a theory’s tendency to generate accurate predictions before we consider it worthy of belief, requires an intellectual rigor that’s difficult and often very inconvenient. Of course, I’m not claiming that the process of questioning one’s beliefs is exclusive to the non-religious; many religious people subject their beliefs to the process of rigorous examination and find they remain convinced of the truth of their beliefs. What I am saying is that the assumptions behind referring to the no-longer-religious as ‘lapsed’ are fallacious and unjust.

Another common assumption behind the supposed superiority of faith is that it’s a mark of humility, traditionally a high religious virtue. Putting aside for the moment the assumption that it’s always a good thing, I’m not at all convinced that humility has any direct link to faith. In fact, saying ‘I don’t know’ when the evidence is unavailable, ‘proportion[ing] belief according to the evidence’ as Hume says of the wise man, is much more humble, much more honest, it seems to me, than the cannot-be-questioned assertions of faith. Epistemic humility, holding oneself accountable to the evidence, is much more appropriate. given how tenuous knowledge claims really are. In a world where our beliefs are constantly challenged and what we think we know is disproved by better arguments and new scientific discoveries, the assertions of faith appear more like a form of arrogance than anything else.

So, while I know that many religious people do honestly examine their beliefs and remain confident they believe what’s true, none have the right to assume that those who no longer hold religious beliefs have carelessly ‘lapsed’. Most of us, you can be assured, have not.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Revised Aug 8th 2015, original version was posted 24th April 2013

What Does ‘Lapsed’ Mean Anyway When Referring to an Ex-Religionist? (Original)

I’ve long thought it strange to be referred to as a ‘lapsed Catholic’. I was baptized and confirmed in the Catholic religion, which I rejected in my early adulthood. ‘Lapsed’, in pretty much every other common usage of the term, refers to a kind of just letting something go or expire, such as letting an insurance policy or subscription ‘lapse’ by forgetting to pay on time, or, simply losing interest. I think that many Catholics and others who subscribe to the religion of their parents (either because they actually believe, or, interestingly, because they just let their membership continue because they forgot or never had much interest in examining the belief system in the first place: its own brand of carelessness) are unaware that so many who no longer believe in the doctrines they were taught in their youth made an active decision to reject them for the best of reasons. For myself as it is for so many others, rejecting the religion of my youth was a long, thoughtful, difficult, yet ultimately emancipatory and joyful process. If those who refer to me and others like me as ‘lapsed’ in the sense of implying carelessness or laziness, or that we just didn’t want to put the effort into satisfying religious demands, they are doing us an injustice. Such dismissiveness may sometimes simply be thoughtless, but it more often smacks of the desire to cast aspersion on deconversion (unless, of course, we’re talking about deconversion from a rival religion!). Yet, remaining within the comforting cocoon of the belief system of one’s youth, with its automatic community membership and societal approval, seems to me to be the easy way to go; critiquing and rejecting one’s beliefs is much harder. This is especially so for religious beliefs that are accompanied by threats, such as hellfire or isolation from a community. For so many of us (and I think most of us ex-religionists), rejecting religion is not passive at all; it’s matter of acting on convictions founded on morals, logic, and a commitment to personal integrity.

I think that a core assumption behind the tendency to dismiss the validity of rejecting dogma is that ‘faith’ is necessary for a human being to be or to become a truly good human being. But why? I’ve heard it said that faith is what’s needed to pass the test for living a worthy life, that knowledge is not enough. Faith, believing without proof, is what’s really difficult, so the assumption goes; therefore, it’s an achievement that’s worthy of reward. I know I’m not alone in thinking that this assumption seems strange. As aforementioned, believing unquestioningly seems to me the easy way to go, and is what we do when we just want to go along with what feels good at the moment, or with what our buddies want us to agree with, or what self-appointed leaders want us to thoughtlessly assent to, or what our communities and families pressure us into. Assenting to the truth of a proposition fully only after careful consideration and weighing of the evidence, or judging whether we’re justified in believing it to be true based on its tendency to generate accurate predictions, is more indicative of intellectual rigor.  Humbly saying ‘I don’t know’ when the evidence is unavailable, ‘proportion[ing] belief according to the evidence’ (as Hume says of the wise man), requiring intellectual rigor of ourselves when important decisions require this: all of these are much more honest, it seems to me, and much harder work, than relying on faith or unexamined dogmas. While I know that many religionists do examine their beliefs and are confident they believe what’s true, none have the right to assume that ex-religionists have carelessly ‘lapsed’. Most of us, you can be assured, have not.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Originally posted 24th April 2013 by Amy Cools. See revised essay here