Since its inception some two thousand years ago, Christianity has propered by teaching of an omnimax Savior who, by grace and love, condescended from the heavenly throne that the wicked might turn from the ungodly path and drink of the cup of His salvation. I know many men, many good men, who will swear to the veracity of this story. I know many men who will die to defend the story of Paul, which is the story of the Christ, the Lamb of God. The story I tell is different however. My story brings into question the Gospel, as it has been promulgated by the almighty Orthodox Church.
Ever since my renouncement of the faith, rationalism has prodded me towards a more naturalistic worldview. One in which there is no august Father awaiting me with outstretched arms after I whisper my last breath, one in which there is no meaning to life, one in which the old ideals of justice, honor, hope, and love have been measured and found to be wanting, one in which life is exposed to be an exercise in
futility.
The effects of my apostasy are of far greater importance to me than the causes and in any case, my decision (I continue to refer to it as a 'decision' when nothing could be further from the truth) has long been thrust aside, trampled upon and forgotten in the vain hope that He will leave me be. But He will not. God will not let me go. In the beginning, which was really the end, I was harrowed by Pascal's Wager. What if? I asked myself. Strangely enough, I was less worried about an eternity in Hades than I was at dying and having to look into the face of a God I had let down, a merciful God in whose face I had spit. To make the record clear, I never left Christianity because I
wanted to. I have no better explanation for the most painful decision of my life other than "I simply lost the will to believe". Like an old coat which would no longer fit, my salvation simply drooped and slid and finally fell into a heap behind me. Never to be picked up again. I know I shall never believe again. But I wanted to. Oh, I yearned for Him in the beginning. Christianity plays tricks on the mind. Dreadful, dreadful tricks.
One of the primary concerns for me during my days as a
new man was that of morality. I was bombarded with frightening thoughts which suggested that I was
free - free of God's law and free of man's law. I realized that I could steal, or curse and swear, or become angry, or even kill in a blind rage without a whim. Without an overarching moral law for compass, it seemed that I could finally
let go and do whatever the hell I wanted because I was going to die anyway. On one hand, this gave me a bold sense of empowerment and on the other, a chilling and unsettling fear. If I was to be honest to my self, I would have to refuse to be moral because it was "the right thing to do". My atheism/agnosticism (or whatever; I am not sure of what I believe) was founded squarely on reason and if reason was to substitue the old panacea, then my final task seemed to me inescapable. If I left religion because I knew nothing about it except what I was told, then I had no choice than to leave morality behind for the same reason; if I left religion because all it seemed to do (in retrospect) was make me feel good; then I had no choice than to leave morality behind for the same reason; if I had to leave religion because it was circular and illogical and groupthink, then I had no choice than to leave morality behind me for the same reason.
If I had to leave religion in order to be honest to myself, then it seemed to me, by reason, and in honesty, that morality was but a discomforting reminder of a dying want to be part of a herd.
I never have abandoned morality, just as I still can not find the strength to tell any of my family members and friends (at least the Christian ones) the truth - I have become the very thing they pity most. It is not that they will hate me, or get angry. It is rather that they will feel sorry for me and try to counsel me and pray for me and murmur this poison: God is beyond the wisdom and logic of man. They would do the things that I would have done. And so I keep my silence and I go to Church on Sundays and I sing praises to God in the car with my mother and I pray at family gatherings like a good Christian would. Except that I'm not.
It is this dilemma of logical consistency which prompts me to write as I have today. If the atheist is to be consistent with his rationalist mantra then he
must be a nihilist.
Nihilism is the corollary of atheism. If you have an "impulse to destroy" and you resist out of fear of the consequences, or because you have been taught that it is some nebulous thing called "wrong" then you have become inconsistent. How will you insist that reason is the last line against absurdities such as religion when morality is so inextricably linked to it? Can you keep your peace intellectually knowing that people are raised with moral teachings, that morality varies from society to society, that the general populace seldom questions the basic pillars of morality, that people who go against what a society arbitrarily deems "moral" are punished the way the society sees fit? Are these not the properties of the religion you have come to loathe, the one you have come to feel indifferent to, the followers of which you have come to feel sorry for? Are people too not raised with religion, does religion not vary from society to society, do the religious not rarely question the basic doctrines, only going as far as to tweak and modify them for personal comfort -
just like people do with morality? Is it then
reasonable to espouse morality and yet condemn religion? Will you call for the punishment of someone who commits a crime disagreeable with your moral codes and yet be OUTRAGED when the religious call for measures in concordance with their tenets? Is this reasonable?
Does this seem logical to you?
As cole grey once said, when you point a finger at someone else, four fingers point back at you.
(Well, actually, it's three, but who's counting?
)
Thanks for your time.
