Why I'm not writing about why I don't believe

It has taken me a long time to update this blog. This time last year, I was very much engaged in debates sparked by some of my (slightly controversial) postings re: church. Barely 3 months later, I stopped believing in the essential doctrines of Christianity. Now, I disbelieve with more certainty than I ever believed.

In the past 9 months I have had all the reasoned debates that you would expect with my wife, various friends and family and even complete strangers. I have become accustomed to providing justification for not believing, as if it were the duty of the non-believer to provide evidence rather than the believer. In most cases such debate was a waste of breath, in the face of a strong belief before the argument.  Therefore, I do not wish to try offer 'reason' in this post. If you want to broadly understand my reasoning read Ken Daniels and John Loftus to start with, as well as skeptical commentaries on apologists like Zacharias, McDowell and Boyd. I am of course willing to discuss these issues with people who will take the time to read 'the other' perspective, which a few of my closest have done and which I appreciate so much. 

I was not reasoned into Christianity (rather, I was born into and educated to believe, and I then rationalised through experience), but I have realised that I am in the small minority who was open to being reasoned out. Most Christians do not believe because any of the dogma makes particular sense, but because they are accepted into a community that provides hope, purpose, vision and love. Reason cannot prevail against this. 

I absolutely identify with many of the core messages of Christ, as depicted in the Bible. I admire many Christians; my dearest friends and family as well as public figures and community activists- my wife first and foremost. Chris who has debated with me so eloquently and intellectually- and we have come different conclusions and that is ok. Christian authors like Frank Viola who have great hearts for change and revolution. Activists like Jarred McKenna and Shane Claiborne who campaign for the marginalised and persecuted. I love and admire these people as human beings.

Ironically, I am writing this from church. Debbie is a believer and the kids love to attend...me not going means not everyone else can go (5 kids under 10 with 2 adults is hard enough as it is!). So now and then, I go along to allow the little kids to go along. It's hard to say what my prevailing feeling is when I attend. Discomfort at being the odd one out. Sadness that people follow the religions of their culture. Frustration that they spend time and money on something I believe to be baseless. If I'm honest, I harbour a bit of resentment that my kids are getting more and more involved, educated and having 'experiences' that to a believer seem to validate belief. I also fear that the role I had all mapped out previously as 'spiritual leader' will be rapidly filled by others, and I will lose something in my position as their father. 

A massive barrier to understanding non-believers is the assumption that being a decent person, behaving ethically or caring for others is an orientation monopolised by believers in a higher power. I do admit that these kinds of behaviour are indeed represented by many people of faith around the world. So, is this because they have to or want to behave this way? If they have to, then do we say that religion is a social control mechanism for morality? If they want to, how can you say that they are not simply a decent person who cares for others? Let's not forget that historically, religion also takes central stage when we examine the very worst in humanity- division, conflict and persecution. 

So what of hope, vision, purpose and love? I think these are the things that people (rightly) are both attracted to and fear losing. Well, I can tell you what keeps me ticking. I hope in humanity, that we can transform society through popular movements that take down entrenched systems (including religious ones). I see vision in divergent thinkers from every race and worldview, coming together to solve global dilemmas. I find purpose in protecting not only my own family but those who are defenceless. I try to ask the right questions to inspire action, progress and change. I see love in every country and community I visit, regardless of faith, with every act of kindness and self-sacrifice. 

This idea of equating belief with higher values is a fallacy, and should be rejected outright. 

I hope my honesty about this will not be taken as a personal attack on anyone. I really do respect and admire all those who care about others and want to make a difference in life. I'm with you.

What do you do?

It's a question we ask when we meet new people, 'what do you do?' We like to know who we are dealing with, right? We usually follow up with questions about how many kids they have, or what church they go to. As long as we can place someone within the social spectrum appropriately is gives us a degree of comfort. We can make a judgement and pursue or reject that relationship accordingly.

My question is about how we value 'what we do' and why it's synonymous with who we are? Many people have argued based on this premise and the big screen regularly portray such a struggle for identity. Meanwhile, we continue to buy-in to the cultural norm that says you are what you do. We spend many years and a small fortune becoming qualified to fulfill a certain role in the workforce, to serve the prevailing system that demands good citizens and 'qualified' graduates. 

I'm fairly well educated, apparently. I certainly did my time, and got the qualifications. I even found my way into a role that I love performing. However, I realise that I'm also a slave to the system. 'What I do' is governed primarily by by employer. Of course, I have more freedom than most to let my passions drive certain aspects of my work, both on education and research fronts. 

It got me thinking about how parents/grandparents etc. revel in the accomplishments of their children. Academic/professional accolades are applauded and form the basis of much small-talk among friends. I am genuinely happy that I make (a very limited number of!) people pleased through what I 'do' and whatever I have achieved....but I just want to put it out there that other more important measures of success do exist. These are the measures by which I would like my own children to be assessed, if they must be assessed. 

We must step back from all the superficial accreditation, achievements and measures of esteem, and recognize the things that people do that have real impact on a human level. Doing a job that 'makes you happy' is a pretty shallow goal. How about doing a job that makes others happy...now that has value. Gaining a degree to boost your cv and get a better job, is that really the best we can do? How much better to seek out every source of knowledge to be better able to pour into our relationships, navigate life issues with wisdom and raise a voice against the systemic problems that cause gross inequality in our world. 

So in the years to come, when you ask me what my kids do (and maybe what I do- since I'm not a lost cause), I hope I can answer, 'They pursue their dreams, they seek out opportunities for learning, they cultivate wisdom, they defend the weak, they befriend the marginalized and they speak the truth. They are changing the world.' 

Opensource

It's not easy to home-educate. I'm often at work during the hardest times, but I certainly feel Deb's pain when I hear about the various antics that are playing out at home. It's hard not having a break, sure. But what an honour to be valued and respected as a teacher by your own kids. What a pleasure to see them form ideas, search for answers and create theories. Sometimes I see our role as facilitator to their learning but it is more than that. The home-educator is an enabler, providing wise council and direction to the eager learner.

'In open source, teaching is a function. Not a profession. Anyone with something to offer can teach. The student determines who is or is not a teacher, not the government. In open source, you don't need a licence to teach any more than Socrates did. Right there you can feel how different the basic assumptions of open source are. No student faces failure for deciding not to learn from you. In open source, students are active initiators. It all sounds too undisciplined, I know, but life beyond schooling is exactly like that. You either write your own script, or you become an actor in somebody else's script.' John Taylor Gatto

I love how Gatto asserts that 'the student determines who is or is not a teacher'. This is quite brilliant, and very true. How many professional teachers have you encountered that failed to inspire you, failed to challenge you to think, failed to engage you at your specific point of interest?  As someone who spends part of my working life as a 'professional educator', I feel that being regarded as a successful teacher (or a teacher at all, as Gatto argues) is much more about rapport than reports. It is more about character than curriculum. The way I see my role (enabler) is as someone with a story and a passion, advocating for my subject as something worthy of engagement. I do not have all the answers, nor would I wish to provide them in any case.

I am quite happy for some of my students to determine that I taught them, and some that I did not. This is not threatening in my view, but healthy. Each learner needs to be reached differently and there are endless opportunities to engage with potential teachers. We have settled for the lie that says that we can only learn from 'qualified' educators, and what we can learn is defined by whatever agenda-laced curriculum is being peddled.

I greatly desire for my kids to be opensource learners. I most definitely encourage my students to be opensource learners. I hope that more and more people with 'something to offer' find ways to share with those eager to learn.

Community

We are so quick to defend ourselves and those close to us from harm. But for many of us, this protective instinct does not extend much further than that. We can watch atrocities occur around the world (and around the corner), and we sympathise...but if we are honest does it simply make us quite grateful that our own friends and family are not in harms way? Do we regularly enjoy and give thanks for the many 'blessings' of a safe environment? Most certainly we have been cultured to embrace competition, accept survival of the fittest, stand up for our rights and entitlements as citizens, men, women, children etc. Putting others first is fine in rhetoric but how many people follow though?

The attitudes of an individualistic and materialistic society that I notice almost daily, at times devastates my soul. I keep my own thoughts in check, as my environment pressures me to accept that my family and I are the most important people in the world. The perceived trials of a busy existence in the digital age have so many of us scrambling for position, scratching our way to every achievement and acquisition. What is all this busy-ness for? Comfort? Wealth? Longevity? Legacy? Or is it just a necessity for survival? 

It's interesting to see how far we have travelled on the path away from real community. In real community, what hurts you hurts me. If you are not safe, how can I rest easy? You may say, that's how I feel about my 'community'....my church, my family, my country. I can see such communities clearly adopting a similar 'ubuntu' type ethos for those they care about, and in many ways, this is a step in the right direction. However, if we adopt self-sacrificial boundaries of faith, bloodline or nationality, it demonstrates collective, as well as individual, self-preservation and self-service.

I do think that some communities see the bigger picture. Some organisations are working towards objectives for ALL of humanity and for the most vulnerable. Most of all, it is inspiring to see individuals who are looking beyond themselves and those they hold dear, understanding that the world will not change as long as our attitudes and boundaries do not. As long as we continue to protect, insulate and enjoy comfort and stability, putting out of mind (with sympathy) those who have no chance at such a life,  we will never accomplish anything of real value. 

When we think of numbers like 1 million child refugees driven out of Syria, three quarters of whom are under 11, can we comprehend the magnitude of such a problem? Is it so far divorced from our busy life that we just cannot understand, or would acknowledgement of the problem have consequences so great that it is more palatable to continue in passivity? Around the world, the cancers of humanity- poverty, racial/social/gender inequality, slavery, human trafficking, conflict- perhaps do not brush up against our lives on a day to day basis. However, have we considered that many of the root causes of vulnerability and suffering are maintained by our need for comfort? 

In order to maintain the status quo of our governments, corporations and systems, global inequality an absolute must. We throw our weight behind the government to protect our interests as citizens, and hope that our companies can deliver our products at an affordable price, regardless of how they achieve this. Consumer demand drives companies to find new ways to cut corners in developing economies. The political elite preach peace and prosperity while jostling for trade concessions designed to exploit. This is all for our comfort and prosperity. 

How can we justify closed borders to refugees? Because they threaten us somehow? How can we learn about the most horrific suffering of fellow human beings, and go back to watching our favourite TV programme? How can I be content that my children are safe and healthy, when there are millions of children around the world that face untold horrors every day? They are my community. I am not content, I am disturbed through and through. Truth be told, I don't ever want to settle, as long as someone in my community is suffering.

A Syrian girl in Zaatari refugee camp in Jordan. Photo: UNHCR/O. Laban-Mattei