It certainly seems like one of the 21st century's biggest coming out parties so far. In Britain in particular, its importance as a cultural phenomenon has been cemented over the last decade by high profile public figures, including authors, entertainers and broadcasters such as Richard Dawkins, Ricky Gervais and Stephen Fry, to name but a few. Similarly, in the US, publications like Sam Harris's Letter to a Christian Nation have opened a very discernible door that seems to shake much of what the United States was founded on. Christian values, to a large extent, still inform American morality, but what has definitely started to happen, is that people worldwide are at the very least considering a world without the church.My crisis of faith occurred when I was 14. To put things in perspective, I went to a very traditional, English South African high school for boys where many of my friends were devout Catholics and the rest belonged to some version of Protestantism. During my years there, the school also had two Jews in attendance as well as two Taiwanese Buddhists, all four of whom were exempt from going to chapel on a Sunday night - an arrangement that I interpreted as more of a privilege than a religious disposition. It was on these nights, while inspecting the grain on the chapel's ceiling beams while hearing "God is holy" being chanted in the background that I began to ask questions. One such night, I asked the school reverend whether I could have a word. I revealed to him my doubts about God's existence, which were met with wide eyes.
After a few seemingly routine questions, he proposed his solution, which was that the void I'd been feeling (quite possibly my words) may have stemmed from the fact that I was receiving God's word in English and not my mother tongue, which is Afrikaans. He sent me on my merry way with a sample of the Gideon's Bible (in Afrikaans), possibly feeling that he'd solved the problem and that he knew his overstock would one day come in handy. It goes without saying that I am unsure of what exactly happened to that bible and the pamphlets aimed at those who ask questions after I left that chapel. What I had learned that night was that I was to face the question of my own spirituality alone. I have always been very impatient with treading down paths that I know will lead me back to where I started. Nevertheless, the next decade was a highly self-exploratory journey for me in which I sought answers in everything scientific, historic, Buddhist, Zen and philosophical. In the end, I find myself without any one school of thought, but the virtues contained in almost every life's philosophy is worth considering.
I agree that those who are not religious, or rather, specifically not Christian, should not be forced to explain themselves. On matters of spirituality, I believe that it is one of the most personal journeys any of us can face. In the same vein, I also believe that anyone who has chosen not to follow a religion should not ridicule those who do. I cannot deny that the non-religious have faced endless judgment and continue to, but to return that judgment bears little fruit other than some self-fulfilling temporary fix. What we are all in search of is truth. For some of us, truth may present itself in stories like those of Moses, David, Jonah and the Whale, Noah's Ark, the birth of Christ and so forth. For others, truth may only be found in science. It is my opinion that no matter how strongly we feel about our core beliefs, we cannot deny another what they believe primordially, for such a person would have to deny himself.Upon reading about an "atheist church" in North London, I was utterly intrigued. It is indeed a bold step for those of little faith. My first thoughts were positive, because I felt that there was at last a place for those who needed to feel a little less ostracised for what hey believed in. But then my thoughts turned inwards and I asked myself whether I would attend such a place. I think part of the reason why The Church did not appeal to me was because I am uneasy with sharing very personal processes as part of a group. I once had an experience while living in London in the late 1990s where I was approached my a Christian cult. When I made myself scarce, they kept calling my work number, accusing my colleagues of lying about my whereabouts. If ever I thought a group scenario could work for me, and I shan't deny my naivety at that age, my first and only encounter of a cult beat it out of me.
I am not accusing the atheist "church" of being a cult, but to me, turning away from religion essentially meant turning away from the group. I do not see myself as a recluse, but I do like to find my own way. I can, however, see the appeal of a "church" for atheists. My wife used to play in a church band despite not belonging to the church itself. She pointed out to me during this time that the church was, above all else, a community. It was a place designed to bring people of similar minds together. When one walks away from that, one simultaneously walks away from a sense of solidarity. To some it might feel like a blessing, but many people lose their sense of belonging in the process. Some need the guidelines provided by their community. For this reason, I feel that the atheist church may very well fill a void, but my fear is that it stands to reintroduce ritual to a group that abandoned it for a reason.
I am not sure how it happened, but Heraclitus's philosophy that no one steps into the same river twice, resonated with my core belief. I am seldom more convinced of anything than I am of the fact that we are in a perpetual state of flux. Perhaps we do not change in broad strokes, at least not as quickly as we do when it comes to the details. In other words, we might change our style, but we do not necessarily change our nature. In time, however, the details may nudge us away from our personal truth. I might submit the brainwashing process, or the effects of prolonged exposure to criminal minds as evidence of this theory. It is for this reason that I find ritual to be detrimental to our individual truths. We should question our lives frequently. We should "spring clean" our beliefs and routines to air them out from time to time. If we fail to do that, we become complacent about the things that matter most to us, whether we know it or not.
Alain de Botton cautioned against calling atheist congregations churches, believing that congregations of atheists were necessary. I quite agree, but when there is a call for something church-like and one is specifically told not to call it that, that is unfortunately what is will become. Furthermore, why does the atheist congregation of North London meet in an old church whose aesthetic has not changed? The comment it makes is not hard to miss. Perhaps it is a quirky enough setting for a group of people who define themselves as not Christian. Perhaps everyone who has ever turned away from Christianity is defined as such, but do we really need to be, or could we be about something else?
However the idea of an atheist church might sit with us, I suspect that as the notion of atheist congregations takes off, atheism might become known as something else in future. Those spiritual nomads amongst us who choose to keep it personal might one day find the actions of the atheist group disagreeable. And that is not so strange. Almost every religion in existence has formed as a result of another.
Hanfred Rauch
