Mystical Atheism
I am an atheist.
I am also a deeply religious man.
I don't see any conflict between the two; no God doesn't imply no peace, no love, no hope. Nor does it imply any reductionism. There may be no God, but that doesn't mean we live in a cold, disconnected universe; in fact, there are deeper mysteries which I explore now than I even dreamed of as a Christian.
What I am about to set forth is not intended as polemic or evangelism. I'm not aiming to convert or persuade anybody. This is simply my experience, for whatever it might be worth to whichever reader. But first, a little bit of background.
I do not consider atheism to be a faith. It's a single and fairly nondescriptive metaphysical position. I refer to myself as an atheist, but there is much which underlies this position and defines what it means in my particular case. If you say, "I'm a believer," the logical next question is "what kind? What conclusions do you draw about the cosmos, about life?" Likewise, I am an atheist, so the next question should be: "what kind?"
I am a fallibilist, which means that I simply don't believe anything is ever perfect, or that any idea is ever perfectly correct. There is always more to learn, there is always the possibility that we are wrong, and as far as we can tell, nothing can be known with absolute certainty (not even that statement ;)).
I am a humanist, which means that I believe in helping people, in reducing human suffering, in protecting the weak, in educating the ignorant, in exalting the humble.
I am a panpsychist, which means that I believe, based on the irreducibility of my first-person experience, that everything in the cosmos is probably in some sense aware or alive, on every scale from a single atom to the entire universe.
And finally, I am a mystic, which means that I believe in the unity of all things and the consequent necessity to value and love and respect all things, and to be kind to all things. It also means I believe in mysticism, which is simply the idea that humans can dig deep down into themselves with open hearts to achieve remarkable insights to help improve themselves and others. Mysticism also entails awe at the beauty and intricacy of the cosmos, and occasionally, a profound experience of ultimate Unity.
You might call these the basic tenets of my "faith."
I want to call special attention to mysticism, which I don't believe enough atheists value. Mystical experiences are not factual, but as symbols they are very powerful and still reveal profound truths, even if they operate in a parabolic way.
But sometimes they're much more direct. And that's what I'd like to unpack. Let me rewind the clock to my last days as a theist, when I knew I could no longer honesty adhere to Christianity but still retained my wariness and prejudice toward atheism.
You see, atheism in itself may not be faith, but ironically, there *is* a leap of faith involved in reevaluating Christianity with the door to atheism looming before you. You don't know what lies on the other end of the abyss, the valley of the shadow of death. You have to plunge into that abyss because you know it's the right thing to do, but on the other hand, you also see a lot of people on the other side of that chasm are selfish, Nietzschean douchebags, and you wonder if the abyss will gaze into you and make you a monster.
But you know what? The shadow is nothing more than you, covering your own eyes, because you are too afraid of what you might see on the other side. I've been there; I speak from personal experience.
Once you take that step, once you leap into the shadow, once you push through the dark night of the soul... on the other end, with Christianity behind you, lies the Empyrean Heaven. You are transfixed, raptured, forced to your knees in awe as sheer love pours into you from every corner of the cosmos. You realize there is nothing more to fear, there is nothing more to hate; there is only peace that passes understanding.
In short, when I left Christianity, I found me.
This is another irony. I was worried that in gaining a step toward truth I might lose me. It turned out that what I'd thought was me wasn't truly me at all; it was me through the distorted funhouse mirror Christianity had set up, an image that made me believe in hell, in sin, in damnation -- an image that made me complacent in my justice because a time would come when God would dry every tear.
Now I understand that I am on this earth to dry the tears of others. This is terror, and this is grief, and this is peace, and this is unutterable joy.
To use a metaphor I developed while Orthodox, men are mirrors of the divine light, but most men have spent such a long time clogging their mirrors up with dirt and grime that you can't see any brilliance, much less any reflection. Our job as men is to clean those mirrors and shine as stars, radiating unquenchable love toward others.
My unequivocal opinion is that Christianity is grime on the mirror of the soul. You may love the grime and not wish to part with it for whatever reason, but it will diminish your ability to reflect the divine light at the heart of all things. I felt I owed it to the ones I love to shine as brightly as I could, at least for them, so I scraped off the grime of Christianity -- with some trepidation.
But it was literally the best decision I have ever made. "Love casteth out fear."
Now I am a seraph, blazing with radiance and fire and gratitude and hope toward everything that exists. Yet the star that shines within is not my own, nor does it shine because I am perfected; heaven knows I am more aware of my flaws than ever before. The light which shines in the darkness is the brilliance of unquenchable unity, and it can leap forth from the mirror of my heart because I have cleaned the dust from my eyes.
So it is that I am an atheist, and a mystic.
Pax vobiscum.
--R
PS -- The educated reader will notice a lot of references to Christian religious language. This is intentional. Christianity is complex but often beautiful when considered as a work of man; it is abhorrent when considered as the work of God. I see beauty and poetry in the work of man; this does not mean that I think God guides the work of man, nor does it mean that the entire work of man is poetic or noble.
I am also a deeply religious man.
I don't see any conflict between the two; no God doesn't imply no peace, no love, no hope. Nor does it imply any reductionism. There may be no God, but that doesn't mean we live in a cold, disconnected universe; in fact, there are deeper mysteries which I explore now than I even dreamed of as a Christian.
What I am about to set forth is not intended as polemic or evangelism. I'm not aiming to convert or persuade anybody. This is simply my experience, for whatever it might be worth to whichever reader. But first, a little bit of background.
I do not consider atheism to be a faith. It's a single and fairly nondescriptive metaphysical position. I refer to myself as an atheist, but there is much which underlies this position and defines what it means in my particular case. If you say, "I'm a believer," the logical next question is "what kind? What conclusions do you draw about the cosmos, about life?" Likewise, I am an atheist, so the next question should be: "what kind?"
I am a fallibilist, which means that I simply don't believe anything is ever perfect, or that any idea is ever perfectly correct. There is always more to learn, there is always the possibility that we are wrong, and as far as we can tell, nothing can be known with absolute certainty (not even that statement ;)).
I am a humanist, which means that I believe in helping people, in reducing human suffering, in protecting the weak, in educating the ignorant, in exalting the humble.
I am a panpsychist, which means that I believe, based on the irreducibility of my first-person experience, that everything in the cosmos is probably in some sense aware or alive, on every scale from a single atom to the entire universe.
And finally, I am a mystic, which means that I believe in the unity of all things and the consequent necessity to value and love and respect all things, and to be kind to all things. It also means I believe in mysticism, which is simply the idea that humans can dig deep down into themselves with open hearts to achieve remarkable insights to help improve themselves and others. Mysticism also entails awe at the beauty and intricacy of the cosmos, and occasionally, a profound experience of ultimate Unity.
You might call these the basic tenets of my "faith."
I want to call special attention to mysticism, which I don't believe enough atheists value. Mystical experiences are not factual, but as symbols they are very powerful and still reveal profound truths, even if they operate in a parabolic way.
But sometimes they're much more direct. And that's what I'd like to unpack. Let me rewind the clock to my last days as a theist, when I knew I could no longer honesty adhere to Christianity but still retained my wariness and prejudice toward atheism.
You see, atheism in itself may not be faith, but ironically, there *is* a leap of faith involved in reevaluating Christianity with the door to atheism looming before you. You don't know what lies on the other end of the abyss, the valley of the shadow of death. You have to plunge into that abyss because you know it's the right thing to do, but on the other hand, you also see a lot of people on the other side of that chasm are selfish, Nietzschean douchebags, and you wonder if the abyss will gaze into you and make you a monster.
But you know what? The shadow is nothing more than you, covering your own eyes, because you are too afraid of what you might see on the other side. I've been there; I speak from personal experience.
Once you take that step, once you leap into the shadow, once you push through the dark night of the soul... on the other end, with Christianity behind you, lies the Empyrean Heaven. You are transfixed, raptured, forced to your knees in awe as sheer love pours into you from every corner of the cosmos. You realize there is nothing more to fear, there is nothing more to hate; there is only peace that passes understanding.
In short, when I left Christianity, I found me.
This is another irony. I was worried that in gaining a step toward truth I might lose me. It turned out that what I'd thought was me wasn't truly me at all; it was me through the distorted funhouse mirror Christianity had set up, an image that made me believe in hell, in sin, in damnation -- an image that made me complacent in my justice because a time would come when God would dry every tear.
Now I understand that I am on this earth to dry the tears of others. This is terror, and this is grief, and this is peace, and this is unutterable joy.
To use a metaphor I developed while Orthodox, men are mirrors of the divine light, but most men have spent such a long time clogging their mirrors up with dirt and grime that you can't see any brilliance, much less any reflection. Our job as men is to clean those mirrors and shine as stars, radiating unquenchable love toward others.
My unequivocal opinion is that Christianity is grime on the mirror of the soul. You may love the grime and not wish to part with it for whatever reason, but it will diminish your ability to reflect the divine light at the heart of all things. I felt I owed it to the ones I love to shine as brightly as I could, at least for them, so I scraped off the grime of Christianity -- with some trepidation.
But it was literally the best decision I have ever made. "Love casteth out fear."
Now I am a seraph, blazing with radiance and fire and gratitude and hope toward everything that exists. Yet the star that shines within is not my own, nor does it shine because I am perfected; heaven knows I am more aware of my flaws than ever before. The light which shines in the darkness is the brilliance of unquenchable unity, and it can leap forth from the mirror of my heart because I have cleaned the dust from my eyes.
So it is that I am an atheist, and a mystic.
Pax vobiscum.
--R
PS -- The educated reader will notice a lot of references to Christian religious language. This is intentional. Christianity is complex but often beautiful when considered as a work of man; it is abhorrent when considered as the work of God. I see beauty and poetry in the work of man; this does not mean that I think God guides the work of man, nor does it mean that the entire work of man is poetic or noble.