Good Godlessness!
When righteousness & religion diverge, which is the right path to take?
“Live a good life. If there are gods and they are just, then they will not care how devout you have been, but will welcome you based on the virtues you have lived by. If there are gods, but unjust, then you should not want to worship them. If there are no gods, then you will be gone, but will have lived a noble life that will live on in the memories of your loved ones.” — Marcus Aurelius, A.D. 121–180
When I was young, my religious family had an ongoing feud with the nonreligious family next door. I’d been friends with their daughter, but our friendship had fizzled, and animosity had taken its place until none of our respective family members were speaking.
One morning, I started off to school during a storm. While battling the tearing wind and torrential rain, I thought I heard shouting behind me. I turned and saw my ex-friend on her porch.
“There’s no school today!” she hollered over the gale. “It’s been canceled!”
Although we were enemies, my neighbor had helped me. I was surprised — confused, even. My family were Christians of the “if you’re not for me, you’re against me” variety. I’d been taught to be inflexible in my grudges, and wouldn’t have helped my neighbor the way she’d just helped me.
Still, I felt grateful.
The road to Hell . . .
Now, decades later, I am no longer a Christian of any variety. I do, however, frequently interact with those in the process of leaving the religion, and I often hear them cite a fear of eternal punishment as the last barrier to cutting ties. Brave souls willing to risk the displeasure of their families, their church friends and their communities knock up against a terror instilled in them from their earliest days.
If they follow their reason and their conscience, will they be tossed into Hell?
If the quote above is any indicator, this is an age-old dilemma. Just how far down the rabbit hole should we follow our chosen religion in order to escape divine rage?
I suppose every generation of Christianity has had its issues. In previous centuries the question might’ve been whether to hide one’s Catholic neighbor or let them be burned by Protestants (or vice versa), or whether to join the mob stoning the village “witch.”
In the U.S., Christians had to choose whether to side with their natural empathy or with the brutality of a church-backed system of slavery that separated families and overlooked rapes, murder and other atrocities. Then there was the matter of native genocides, racial integration, universal suffrage, women’s rights, colonization, sexual morality . . . all subjects on which various well-attended churches took a strong stance.
Today is no different. We still face social questions that are deeply involved with what the Christian church is promoting — questions that go far beyond the “love your neighbor” and “turn the other cheek” messages emphasized by some. In the U.S. we’ve watched the majority of Evangelical Christians line up to support Donald Trump, a man credibly accused of sexual abuse, fraud and other crimes. Christians have been at the forefront of the COVID-denying movement, the push to restrict women’s health care, the banning of books, relentless attacks on the dignity and rights of LGBTQ+ citizens, an assault on public education, and the current push for a white Christian nation.
Yet whether one’s religion is “bringing the word of God” by force to indigenous peoples, or working to impose sexual control over an entire diverse society — whether the damage is accomplished on a large scale by a majority-Christian nation or on a family-by-family basis by godly parents implementing the infamous “rod of correction” — there is a time in the life of every individual when they must ask themselves if theirs is really a religion worth following, if this god of theirs is truly a deity worthy of worship.
Each of us must ask ourselves, not if this hatred, bigotry, unkindness and fear is what God is about, but whether it’s what we are about.
When we do this — when we look, eyes open, at the failings of our religion, and decide it’s not for us — do we really risk Hell?
For goodness’ sake
Here’s how I see it. If there is a higher power, he/she/it/they fashioned the majority of us with an innate sense of right and wrong. Evil is a religiously loaded word, so I won’t use it, but I would contend that most of us know goodness when we see it.
It’s why we watch videos of people saving kittens from wells or finding homes for abandoned dogs. It’s why we celebrate heroes who carry children from burning buildings, why we weep to watch rescuers dig through rubble after a natural disaster, and why we cheer when they find someone alive. We know when an act is kind, benevolent, helpful. We know when behavior makes us proud to be human, or ashamed of our humanity. It makes us angry to see someone bullied, and it makes us glad to witness an act of compassion.
That’s how I see it, anyway — godless as I am.
Kindness is good. Violence is ugly. Easing the suffering of a living creature is the right thing to do. Erring on the side of compassion is the right thing to do.
Shouting from a porch that there’s no school — even if the person you’re helping has hurt you, even if they’re your sworn enemy and don’t belong to your church or believe as you do . . .
It wasn’t something I understood then, but it was the higher road.
When God & goodness part ways
Now here’s the thing. When our religion takes us out of that moral preset — when it tells us that we should ignore suffering, or even harass and harm others because of their different beliefs, their gender, their sexuality, their race, their nationality, their perceived sins — and our gut, our instinct, given to us (if anything was) by our creator, differs, what do we do?
Should we comply with the religious dogma of the day in order to chase some eternal reward, or should we follow our conscience, risking even the Hell of our religious tradition in order to do what our heart knows is right?
For many of us — over the centuries and up till today — choosing to follow our better nature has come with the perceived risk of divine punishment, along with the very real rejection of our families and community. As unfair as this truly is, I personally think it represents the greatest challenge we face as humans. I think it goes to the core of what this experience is about.
Will we do what’s right or will we do what’s easy? Holocaust survivor Viktor Frankl says it well in his book, Man’s Search for Meaning:
“We do not ask life what the meaning of life is. Life asks us, what is the meaning of your life? And life demands our answer.”
This life — the only one we’re guaranteed — is asking us who we are, what we’re about. It’s a question we’re faced with every day, and maybe the only one that matters.
Who are you? Do you mindlessly follow the unyielding rules and bigotries set forth for you by your particular brand of religion, or do you follow an internal compass that points toward kindness and justice? If it’s the latter, then I’m with Marcus Aurelius.
You have nothing at all to fear.
