Religion Answers the "How" Questions

It is oft said that where science answers the "how" questions, religion answers the "why." Put another way, whereas how the world came to be, may eventually be answered, so to speak, in the laboratory, the question of why the world came to be, is one that is to be answered in a house of worship. Religious moderates will cite this as an attempt to show the equal importance of science and religion, as well as there compatibility. 

Richard Dawkins in his book "The God Delusion" chastises this way of thinking: 

"It is a tedious cliché (and, unlike many clichés, it isn't even true) that science concerns itself with the how questions, but only theology is equipped to answer why questions. What on Earth is a why question? Not every English sentence beginning with the word 'why' is a legitimate question. Why are unicorns hollow? Some questions simply do not deserve an answer." 

When I first read these words, I remember being swept away by their objective and rational precision. It was true, after all, that some questions are so outlandish that to answer them insults the person who wasted the time. Yet, are the "why" questions religion claims to answer as ridiculous as such questions as: Why are unicorns hollow? Does inquiring into the purpose of existence, seeking the meaning behind the universe constitute a question undeserving of an answer? In a completely rational sense, yes, these questions are as strange and irrelevant as to inquire into the nature of a unicorn's biology. Perhaps, they are unworthy of answering if we are judging questions by their practical applicability. 

However, as I once heard from Martin S. Jaffee, a recently retired Professor at the University of Washington who spent the majority of his career studying and teaching Judaism and comparative religion, "These questions are important because people are asking them." 

Jaffee was telling me that whether or not these questions are answerable, whether or not the answers religions have provided are true, we must address the fact that man, unlike any other species that we know of, has been asking these questions for centuries. These questions, therefore, are real, and of utmost importance. Yet, we must ask: Can they really be accurately answered?

Dawkins seems to preempt this challenge and closes the paragraph quoted above with: "Nor, even if the question is a real one, does the fact that science cannot answer it imply that religion can." This, in my opinion, is a far more accurate objection to religion's "how/why" sentiment. 

Let us, for a moment, accept that perhaps religion is capable of answering the seemingly unanswerable "why"questions of man. Is that really all religion attempts to do? Is the Bible really just a moral guide making no claims as to the nature of the world? 

Upon brief reflection, or rather upon glancing at the very first verse in Genesis, one will discover the fallacy of such a statement. Genesis 1:1 begins with the "fact" that: "In the beginning God created the heavens and earth." Is this not a claim as to the nature of the universe? Whether God exists or not is a fact, perhaps an impossible one to prove in any scientific sense of the word, but it is, or is not, a fact. Whether or not such a Being created the earth and is constantly attentive to it, is yet another fact, or not, about the world. 

The Bible recounts many times that the Divine Hand intervened with the natural course of events. God allegedly caused water to turn to blood, hail to come crashing onto the Egyptians property, and all the Egyptian firstborns to simultaneously fall over dead. Not to mention perhaps the most glamorous of all the miracles, that of the splitting of the sea. Where, according to the Bible, the Israelites marched through the raging sea on dry land. These were but a few miracles of the plethora found in the biblical narrative of the Exodus. Are these not meant to be read as accurate accounts of history? Are we to read these supernatural events as mere metaphors? 

It may be impossible to answer any of the "why" questions without making certain "how" claims, but that does not justify making claims about the universe without evidence. Therefore, if religion truly wants to answer the "why" it may have to either admit it's rejection of science, or be quiet. 

It would seem that up until science destroyed the "scientific" claims made by the Bible, religion was able to claim to know the "how" of the universe as well. Once science advanced to a point able to challenge the origins of the world, as well as it's age, religious moderates were forced (reluctantly in some cases) to resort to religion's comforting values. Though science has answered, or is in hot pursuit of answering the "how" of the entire world, religion will always be able to comfort man's searching soul with the "why" answers. This, religion claims, was always their intention. 

Science of course, will not be able to take away these "powers" from religion, for science does not, nor will it ever, pretend to know the unknowable. As of now however, science has shown that chances are, there isn't a "why" to be worried about. Though this conclusion, if it is indeed true, is uncomfortable and will leave the contemplative rather disappointed, there is some good to be found in it. Mankind can stop worrying about why we are here, and instead focus on the fact that we are, and get to planning what we should do about it.
    
The point is, whether or not religion is comforting to the "why" questions that so plague humanity, we need to face the reality that religion was not meant to simply answer such questions, but attempted at answering the "how" questions as well. Lucky for mankind, science broke through these answers and found them to be what they are: primitive guesses made by men who were collectively more ignorant about the universe than a child in the grade school today. 

That religion was only meant to answer the "why" questions is a thinly veiled attempt to distract from the fact that for centuries they had professed absolute knowledge of the "how" questions, as well. They were effectively, through openminded inquiry, proven to be utterly mistaken. The Bible is an attempt of man to understand the earth (which was thought then to be flat). Today, ancient poorly-educated guesses should be considered for nothing more than an accurate account of how man thought before he knew basically anything about the universe. 

Is Religion Child Abuse?

Is religion child abuse? Before I begin, I must note that the question is not: Can religious teachings be used to harm children? Nor is the question: Have religious people, even clergy men, been guilty of cruelty against children? A quick glance at religion's tainted history will reveal that both these latter questions can lamentably be answered in the affirmative. The question I have posed here is: Is teaching the doctrines of religion to children inherently child abuse?

Many out-spoken atheists would posit that the teaching of religion to minors is indeed child abuse. Though this is certainly attention-grabbing, can they really mean what they are saying? Do these fine thinkers truly believe that teaching religious doctrine to children is tantamount to beating them? Since most religious teachings today, however erroneous, seem to focus on the "good parts" of their holy scriptures, do they really equate such teachings to the wide-spread physical, sexual, and psychological abuse against helpless children that contaminates much of our society?  

After reading the horrifying accounts of Dave Pelzer, in his book: "The Child Called 'It'," I have learned to reserve the usage of the term, "child-abuse," to circumstances requiring it. In fact, after reading about the suffering Pelzer endured, I scarcely find "child abuse" an appropriate term. However, certainly to throw this word at people whom you happen to disagree with, is both a misuse of the term and an idiotic comparison. 

What could they mean when they call religious teachings child abuse? Could they mean that if parents rebuke the skepticism of their children, if they refuse them the right to inquire into the nature of their faith on fear of punishment, severe or otherwise, then, that is to be regarded as child abuse? If this is what they mean, then I absolutely agree, and I imagine, many parents both religious and secular would also wholeheartedly agree with such a sentiment. I know this is true of my parents (as I have written here), and most of the religious parents I have met in my life. Therefore, to say that religion is child abuse, is again an unfair exaggeration, if not down right slander. 

Misusing terms like child abuse, Nazi, genocide, or evil, is wrong for it robs the word of its power. When the State of Israel is called out for "committing genocide" against Palestinians, or when they are ironically referred to as Nazis, one who studies the reality objectively will instantly notice the wild misuse of these terms. If language is to mean anything to us, we must use it responsibly, and not hijack words to promote our cause, however important we may feel to be. 

So, is religion child abuse? No. Certainly not the way most religious children in the West are being raised. To refer to the multitude of alleged accounts of child rape by priests, rabbis, and mullahs is, as well, unfair. Insofar as these tales are true -- no doubt some of them are -- they are evil according to all, religious and secular alike. There are yet children in the darker parts of the world whom are abused by their parents, perhaps because of a specific religion, this is, as well abhorrent, and condemned by many. These awful unspeakable acts, however, cannot make us say that all teaching of religion is child abuse.

There are factions in every faith where children are abused by the strict nature of their parents' doctrine. There are places in the world, and even in Western countries, where children are forced to accept the faith of their parents' at the risk of punishment; this is child abuse. Anytime a child is forced to accept a doctrine or belief, be it Christianity or Communism, to name just two examples, we can confidently say, that the child is being stripped of his basic human rights and therefore, is suffering from abuse.

Unless I am mistaken, this is not the commonplace reality however. Most religious children are brought up in homes where they are free to inquire into the truth of their parents' faith, as well as, choose to abandon it. Such people would laugh if someone were to tell them they had been abused as children.

We must now address another accusation against the religious. The concept of hell is predominant in most faiths. Is it child abuse to dissuade a child's bad behavior with fear of eternal suffering? I do no think it to be. As wrong as it may be, to categorize this with beating, raping, and psychologically torturing children, is unfair. This may be bad parenting. It may be a cheap ploy. In the worst case, it may scare the child into serious worry and guilt, but no real harm is happening, if the child is raised in a home that promotes the freedom to question. In most cases, parents who resort to scaring the child with hell-fire, are doing so out of love for the child and a desire for him to remain safe. Again, this is a cheap ploy, and should be admonished, yet it is not child abuse. Should a parent who takes their child to the cancer ward in the hospital to try and scare the child away from smoking be considered an abuser of children?

[It doesn't matter that cancer is an actual result of smoking, and hell a made up result of sins, for the point being made here is that such scare tactics against children's bad behavior, however cheap a ploy it may be, cannot be made out as child abuse.]

However, religious parents should be sure that they "know" their faith to be correct before indoctrinating their children into it. Since in most faiths there are numerous sins to which their children must now refrain from committing, it behooves the parents to research both the tenets of their faith as well as the truth of it. As an example, in some religions, like Judaism, Christianity, and Islam, the repression of sexual desires can be very damaging to a child. Many religiously-raised adolescents struggle with the natural sexual desires of people their age, and the guilt (brought on by the religious doctrines) that follows any indulging in it. Imagine how hard it is for a 14 year old boy to wrap his head around the fact that every time he thinks of a sin, it's as if he committed it; and if he masturbated, it is as if he has murdered someone. There are other tenets of faith that are equally, if not more horrifying than my example, and religious parents must be very careful before they raise children in them. Or, at the very least, religious parents must be able to explain their faith in such a way as to protect the emotional stability of their child.

In conclusion, religious upbringing generally, should not be regarded as child abuse. However, there are aspects of every faith that can harm children, and therefore, religious parents must do all they can to teach their scriptures in a way that will enlighten and help the child, not subjugate them. All healthy parents, religious and secular, will teach their children what they feel to be the best and most healthy way for them. They will make rules on how much television their children should watch and with whom they should spend their time. At times, parents may make mistakes in the raising of their children. Yet, if all is done out of love for the child, if the child is given an environment in which he or she can discover, question, and ultimately accept or reject the teachings he or she was raised with, chances are such parents will not be guilty of abusing their children. A result, no parent should want, and no human should allow.

[The reader may notice that I left out the topic of circumcision. The reason for this omission is that this topic is very complex and, quite frankly, I have not researched it enough to come to a final opinion. The commandment gives me much discomfort, for it is very bothersome to my moral sensibilities to cause harm, however slight, to any body part without the consent of the person involved. I will return with an essay on circumcision as soon as I have come to a conclusion regarding it.]

Playing in the Religious Playground

In debates I have had, and debates more prominent atheists have had, with religious people, I dare say we have all made a significant mistake in our argument. In my previous post "Why Morality Doesn't Matter", I attempted to address the fundamental problem of debating the good and evil values of religion, before debating the really important question, that of the existence of God, or not.

At the risk of sounding repetitive, allow me to address another, yet similar, error I and my fellow atheists have made in debates with the religious.

It is common for atheists to point out, generally with due intensity, the immoral verses contained inside the Bible, New Testament, and the Qu'ran. Conversely, it is just as common to hear religious people pointing out the humanistic and revolutionary concepts inscribed therein. At times, both the atheist and the religious end up quoting the same verse!

This makes one thing perfectly clear: Since the authors of these texts wrote in vague and poetic terms, everyone can, without much effort, create the meaning that best suits them. The words can be twisted and bent to fit even the most outlandish of explanations. It is for this precise reason that we have two major camps in every religion (and sub-camps in these two as well). There are religious people who will commit heinous crimes whilst quoting verses of their holy texts, and others who condemn those actions based on the very same verses. Because of the vast number of the latter type of religious person, the former is generally referred to as a "fanatic." Needless to say, the so-called fanatics simply think of the moderates as secularized at best, or at worst, full-blown heretics. I stress again, these groups are not called fanatics because they are reading the text wrong, but only because of the vast number of people who view the text through the prism of 21st century modernism. That is a very important clarification. One has to wonder why God, Jesus, or Allah did not feel the need to be a little more specific.

I have heard religious people when stumbling upon a verse that bothers their moral sensibilities, brush it off with feigned nonchalance, claiming they must have not understood the verse correctly, for: "God, wouldn't command that!" In one sentence they claim to know the inner workings of God's mind, while in the next they will tell you that God allows evil to prevail, and we must accept it, for: "We can't understand God's ways." A tragic, yet popular hypocrisy.

The point is, an atheist should examine the texts, he should know the problems with the religious scriptures, but not to use them against the religious. Why? Because it won't work. If you debate a "fanatic" he will agree with you that, for instance, gays deserve to be stoned, as do Sabbath violators and heretics, and therefore, you will accomplish nothing, accept to show him how versed you are in the Bible.

If you debate a moderate, he will show you how each one of the verses quoted does not mean what you think it means. He, as the religious person, will easily discard you as a fool who glances at the "complex nature" of the verses and jumps to conclusions without proper understanding. If you then show him clergy members of his faith espousing different claims than he about the verses, he will generally wave them off as fanatics.

You will have wasted your time and intellectual energy, and will have again, missed the only challenge to religion that it must answer, and that I have never heard it successfully answer: Does God exist? If so, where is the proof? If not, their texts do not matter more than a piece of ancient literature.

No religion does not have it's share of inner arguments about explanations and interpretations of their holy scriptures. In Judaism (I do not know about the other religions), this pluralism of interpretations is embraced, capsulized in the perplexing statement made by the rabbis of the Talmud: "These and these [the disputed opinions] are the words of the living God." Quoting scripture against the religious is a battle you will not win. It is their playground, in which they know how to maneuver far better than you.

Why Morality Doesn't Matter

The moral debate in our postmodern age is both majestic and melancholic. Do we still think that there is real concepts such "right" and "wrong?" The terms "good" and "evil" have to some people lost their meaning entirely. While to others, these words have only become harder, though not impossible, to define.

Is there a set of universal laws which govern the way man is to act towards his fellow? Can we speak in objective terms while discussing questions of ethics and morality? Does man have some kind of responsibility towards the universe, or is the world a jungle in which the only the strong survive? These questions have plagued mankind for centuries, perhaps ever since man became aware of himself. [It is fascinating to note that even though no moral code has ever been universally accepted, nor do any two people agree on every ethical dilemma, practically everyone cares about and values morality. We almost instinctively know the value of a moral system, even if we differ on how to define it.]

Religious people are quick to pose these problems to atheists as proof of their religious doctrine, or at the very least, they wish to show the value of dogmatic belief over the "hopelessness" of secular rationalism. I once heard a rabbi who, when challenged as to whether or not God existed, answered by stating that without God there can be no morals, and therefore... He went off to quote Dostoevsky (as they almost always do) who is said to have written: "If God does not exist, everything is permitted." I have also heard many religious people say that were there no God, nothing would stop them from becoming murderers and rapists. As if the only reason they do not carry out such horrifying acts this moment, is to prevent punishment, in this world or the next, from an invisible God. How contemptible. Though, to their credit, I'm quite certain a great number of them are lying, and that they wish only to frighten my heart, so that I too should take cover in the absolutism of their faith. Religion has held a monopoly on morality and they believe this gives them a rational platform on which to stand in the God debate. It does not.

I will admit, however, that without a god dictating our universal laws, there would arise moral difficulties that are almost, if not completely, insoluble. There are fascinating philosophical discussions which have attempted to create an objective moral code based on rational arguments. There have been yet others, who challenge these premises and simply say that all is relative. "His pleasure is not my pleasure, and I have no right to dictate what he does or does not do," is the basic gist of the argument. In practice though, I must add, one will be hard pressed to find the surge of atheists who, because they have no belief in God, are committing crimes. (If the reader is tempted to to say here that Hitler and Stalin disproved this, I will say that while at least Stalin was not a believer, his totalitarian movement was just as dogmatic and anti-rational, as the worst of religions. It therefore, does not negate my point, and rather strengthens it.) It seems that where atheists may differ entirely on whether we can say objectively that there exist these universal laws of ethics, most atheists in practice, live rather morally and upright lives. A seeming paradox indeed, yet a consistent one.

I will further admit, that if there was an all-knowing, all-seeing being, it would certainly be fitting for such a being to dictate our morals. Surely such a creature could make accurate and precise claims as to the nature of the universe. Even more so, if that being created the universe! Of course, everyone following a sacred text which is claimed to be authored by such a being, should wonder if he is indeed following the morals of a god, or simple unenlightened middle-eastern shepherds from a much earlier century.

It is this last point that should compel the religious to make certain their sacred texts are, in fact, true. If they are not, you may, because of them, commit certain acts that I think even the staunchest of believers would agree are immoral. Even if a moral code would be impossible to create or sustain without a god, we have no right to say that such a being exists! The world may be a terrifying, gloomy, hopeless existence where wickedness prevails, that still does not mean that Truth can be manipulated to comfort us. Religion may offer the world many precious comforts. It may allow humans to experience certain sensations such as spirituality, more often than the secular. Religion may, though some would differ, refine a great many people. All these values lead us no closer to knowing whether it's claims are, in fact, true.

Mankind has always been very adapt to evolving to fit their surroundings, we have evolved as creatures both physically and mentally, and will probably continue to do so. Is it such a stretch to say that as we became more conscience of ourselves, we evolved morals that would allow the continuance of our gene pool? Crediting the moral advancements to gods would simply ensure the observance of those moral achievements. Hence religion.

I am no expert in the origins of religion, nor do I claim to know when our sense of morality evolved to where it is today; I merely wish to point out that though religion is an easier moral system, and perhaps has done some good for certain people, we still cannot say without evidence that it is God's word.

The question that must be addressed, the only question religion must answer, is: Does God exist? If you claim he does, the burden of proof is on you. To show the history of religion, to talk of the morals it possesses, to waste time talking about the comfort and hope religion cultivates, is to evade the most important challenge to religion; the only question worth answering.      

How a Child of Converts Became an Atheist

I sit wringing my hands as I watch my father, with his dark beard and long flowing side-locks approach the car. I am about eight years old and he has taken me along, as he had done many times, on one of his deliveries. I wonder, "should I ask him? Will he be angry with me?" I am so nervous, the pit in my stomach has all but enveloped me. His car door opens and he climbs into the drivers seat. I decide that I must ask him, and hope for the best. I heard myself ask: "Abba (Dad), how do we know we are right; the Jews I mean?"

The question was out in the open, there was no turning back now. He looked at me, his eyes were not filled with rage, as I had anticipated, but with love. The very first thing he said to me was: "Great question, son." He then went on to present me with an answer that had left an impression on him. It didn't so much matter what his answer was, it only mattered that it was okay for me to doubt the religion, the path, he had chosen. He then concluded, the way my parents always do when I or my brothers ask questions: "I am proud of you for asking, keep on asking."

There are religious people who reject the natural skepticism in their son or daughter. They either get angry with them for their lack of faith, or they brush off the questions as silly or childish. Their children may remain religious or they may stray, but those parents have failed one of the most important challenges that every parent faces: That of, teaching their children how, as opposed to what, to think. How foolish are such parents!

My parents, who are converts to Judaism, understood the beauty of the question. They praised our inquisitive minds. They challenged our assumptions. They understood that without the question, there can be no progression. If a child inquires into the nature of God or reality, the parent, whether a believer or not, should marvel in the fact that their young son or daughter is seeking to learn about the most important aspects of human life. In that moment, the parent can either lay the foundation upon which the child will build his intellectual tower, or they can shatter the child's most important will, the will to know. My father, on that day, laid the first brick.

My parents, after searching and experimenting with many other ways of life chose Judaism. However, they have always encouraged my brothers and I to ask, to challenge, and most importantly to find the truth for ourselves. I hear stories of children hiding their disbelief in God from their parents. Some have to go so far as to "escape" the confines of their home if they wish to espouse their thoughts. Children who do not believe in their parent's God may be excommunicated, disgraced, and hated by their own families. I have no such woe. My parents, my family, have been nothing but embracing. We debate, we discuss, but we never stop loving one another.

So, are my parents to blame for my atheism? Yes. But not because they did something wrong, but because they did something right. They taught me how to think for myself. They challenged me to find the truth, where ever that journey may take me. They cheered me on always, no matter if I was a ultra-Orthodox lad, or a wild-haired hippie. Their smile is filled with so much love when they repeatedly say: "We are so proud of you."

I do not know what my future will bring; my path may not be that of my parents. But we will always be a family, a loyal family. A family that embraces great questions over easy answers. A family that, though both in the secular and religious world the family structure is crumbling, will stay together. I will continue to seek truth, continue to doubt, continue to ask, and I know there will be a family waiting for me, always. On that day when I was eight year old, my father proved that to me.  

Thank you both so much. I love you.

The Temptation of Belief

I have discovered that the majority of atheists find themselves unable to believe. Many of them, whether they were raised religious or not, have always had trouble believing that there was an invisible being watching over them, anxious to hear their prayers. Many atheists are of the stance found in Blaise Pascal's Pensées, where the hypothetical unbeliever declares: "...I am so made that I cannot believe."

Yet, there is another class of atheist, a class of which I am part, to whom belief comes naturally. We are tempted, and have perhaps, been convinced here and there, to believe the impossible. I, for one, spent 24 years engulfed in the absolute belief in God, heaven, and miracles. I was not surprised, and willingly believed, the stories of holy men performing supernatural events. I saw "God's guiding hand" through many of my own experiences. I believed stories about demons, and angels. I believed stories of Elijah the Prophet taking the form of other people to help a Jew out of a tough situation. It was not hard for me to believe the intangible, the incomprehensible, it was as real to me as the sun in the sky. I am a natural believer. I identify with the powerful words of Jean-Paul Sartre when he wrote: "That God does not exist, I cannot deny; that my whole being cries out for God, I cannot forget."

I may be a believer by nature, but I am an atheist by choice. Though religion's warm embrace tempts me, I reject her. Though the mysterious and fantastical call to me, I do not hearken to them. It is irresponsible for me to accept claims without proof. Without being able to check a premise, what right have I to call it reality? 

I must interject here only to state, that I am in no way perpetuating the repeatedly told "axiom" that religion is the best way of life. I have shown in other essays that I firmly do not believe that to be the case. Yet, the comfort that religion gives, existential and otherwise, cannot be denied. Moreover, for someone who wants to believe -- who's being summons him to believe -- religion seems all the more tempting. 

Humans tend to believe many claims without sufficient proof. I, no doubt have done so, and will probably be guilty of it, in some manifestation, again. Can this be called a healthy perception of reality? Can man believe whatever he pleases? When truth is no longer an ideal to strive for, what limits should be put on man's untamed imagination? If we are to believe whatever we desire, without some objective method of testing those beliefs, we have but erased the very word "truth" from the universe. 

If the idea of "truth" is to matter at all, if we are to understand reality, however slightly, we must determine for ourselves a tool for measuring it. I have chosen reason. Reason can be tested, critiqued, and most importantly mended. It has no sacred scriptures it must consult, no dogma it must appease. It requires no believe, no blind faith. It desires free-inquiry and a thirst to learn. It demands honesty and open-mindedness. It is the tool that has propelled mankind from primitive tribes scurrying around the Earth, to advanced civilizations that are currently pushing the boundaries of space. 

Reason is not an end in itself, but a tool. There is yet room in the world for wonder, love, poetry and all other conceivable forms of art. We cannot however, be without reason. It must be the tool that is used to measure all the important questions of life. All other aspects that are to be found in the universe that make living so glorious, must be allowed to roam free, only after reason has established the safe borders.

This is why, as natural as it is for me to believe in religion's claims, as tempting as it is, I cannot. Not unless I can reasonably prove them to be true. That is my duty to the truth. To seek her out, even if she is almost impossible to find. I mustn't capitulate to my feeble heart's desires to be comforted as I once was, by religion. Friedrich Nietzsche correctly wrote: "There is nothing more necessary than the truth, in comparison with it everything else has only secondary value."  

I may at times be tormented by my doubts, my uncertainty. I may be beaten down by my skepticism. But I will forever know, that when faced with the "two roads diverged... I chose the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference."    

Atheist: The Dirty Word

I am an atheist.

I remember the first time I was brave enough to say those words. I say brave, not because I live in a community where heretical statements are treated as capital crimes worthy of death (though but a few kilometers from where I sit, this is no doubt the horrifying reality), but because saying that word amongst certain folk is tantamount to committing social suicide. For months, I had been calling myself names like: doubter, seeker, or agnostic. While all these labels are true to a point, they are but tools I used to evade having to say that word. 

As of a few weeks ago I said the words: "I am an atheist." It wasn't in front of a big crowd, nor as a rebel cry in the face of religious fanatics; in fact, I believe the first time I said it was actually in the company of my best friend who is also as atheist! Yet, as the words poured forth from my mouth, I felt a rush of power surge through me. It was like I had transformed from being a lost puppy to a strong and confident lion.

In reality however, nothing really changed. I still am full of doubt, I still am seeking rational claims for existence of God, and I still am -- perhaps most importantly -- open to be proven wrong and placed once again, in the familiar arms of my childhood faith.

Why then, did I insist on calling myself an atheist? For that is what I am. A man without a theology.

The word "atheist" in our society as become a sort of dirty word. When said, it has giant waves of negative connotations both on believers and non-believers alike. I imagine that some regard it as synonymous with anti-religion. There are people who actually regard my questions on faith in almost an antipodal fashion since I uttered that word. So long as I was a mere "doubter," there lingered hope for me yet. The moment I latched onto that abhorrent word, my doubts become foul and my influence, a danger.  Obviously, not everyone regards this word in such a negative light, but I, in my believing past, certainly had distaste for it's pronouncement. I am sure there are many others who dislike this harmless word, I therefore feel the need to set the  record straight.

Atheism is not a belief that there is no God or gods. It is the lack of belief in God or gods. To put in differently: "I don't believe in God," is not the same as, "I believe there is no God." Granted, in practice these two are one in the same. That is to say, there will be no difference between believing there is no God, and not believing in God in the way one may act.

However, anyone who truly believes there is no god, that is, he knows there is no god, upon brief analysis will conclude the obvious: To say that anything absolutely does not exist, no matter how unlikely the existence of that thing may be, is an impossible claim to make. One cannot say with certainty that God does not exist. Of course, one can not say that Bertrand Russel's celestial teapot does not exist either.There are those believers who use this as a proof of God! Which is comical yet, intellectually depressing.

With regards to using the unfalsifiable nature of God to bolster one's faith, Richard Dawkins in his (in)famous book "The God Delusion," wrote: "We would not waste time saying so because nobody, so far as I know, worships teapots, but, if pressed we would not hesitate to declare our strong disbelief that there is positively no orbiting teapot. Yet strictly speaking we should all be teapot agnostics: we cannot prove that there is no celestial teapot. In practice, we move away from teapot agnosticism towards a-teapotism."

So, to be in atheist, is to live life as if there was no god. It is to quite literally, not believe in him. We needn't be afraid of the word nor treat it as just another religion. Though I am sure that there are people who claim to know there is no god, this is not, and rather taints, the very intellectual approach which is actual atheism.

Christopher Hitchens in his book "God is Not Great" defined quite accurately and with grand erudition, as was his manner, the "belief" of the atheistic community: "Our belief is not a belief. Our principles are not a faith. We do not rely solely upon science and reason, because these are necessary rather than sufficient factors, but we distrust anything that contradicts science or outrages reason. We may differ on many things, but what we respect is free inquiry, openmindedness, and the pursuit of ideas for their own sake."

However it is in fact, because of this popular misinterpretation of the word: atheist, which led me to feel powerful and confident upon allowing that word to escape my lips. Even though, nothing really changed, in a way, everything did. Such is the power of words.