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Leamington Letters #26: Religion for atheists

8/5/2012

4 Comments

 

‘I married Isis on the fifth day of May’, so we went to Brighton last week to stay at the Hotel du Vin & Bistro, see Guy and Sophia, and take in a couple of gigs on the first day of the Literary Festival.

I will probably return on these pages to the readings by Simon Armitage and Edna O’Brien; suffice to say, here and now, that they were clever, witty and wholly engaging. The highlight for me, however,  was the lecture by Alain de Bottin on Saturday afternoon.

De Bottin is an atheist, but an atheist atheist rather than an Anglican atheist, as I am. He was brought up in a wholly secular Jewish household, whereas I was born to Anglican parents and educated in Anglican schools, at each of which the day began (and often closed) with an Anglican ceremony.

I made up my own mind about the non-existence of God, but never lost my love of  the music of Bach and Handel, the prose of the King James Bible, the paintings of … well, just about everyone until a couple of hundred years ago.

I take it all for granted. It is part of me. The playlist of my life includes the music, the literature, the art, the moral philosophy created by lovers of and believers in God.

For Alain de Bottin, however, it is new territory. He is an atheist because he was brought up by atheists to be an atheist, and even Christmas – the most un-religious ceremony of the religious calendar – was not celebrated in his household. It was only later, ‘looking for wisdom throughout his adult life’ – I am quoting from his lecture rather than his hugely enjoyable book – that he came, via literature and psychology, to religion as a potential source of the wisdom for which he searched.

He is right that the debate between secularists and deists is sterile and pointless: ‘God doesn’t exist. Let’s move on.’ Neither side will convince the other. But there is much that we can learn, if not from religion, from what is religious.

That is why I term myself an Anglican atheist. I love much of what is religious, and find comfort and solace in it, even if I find neither of those things in religion itself. I can be involved in religion without being religious. I can even find the spirituality in a building such as the church at Little Gidding, which I visited many years ago in search of the essence of TS Eliot (it wasn’t there, but something was), or in one of those majestic cathedrals, such as Lincoln, where I sang as a young chorister with an impure treble voice.

De Bottin quotes similar examples as he adopts his ‘cafeteria approach to religions’, cherry picking what he likes and doesn’t like from Christianity (primarily), Judaism and Islam. And though we come to religion from opposite ends of the spectrum – he from atheism, me to atheism – we have this in common: 

That much that is religious is too beautiful and too complex to be left to the religious.

Today’s listening: Bach, St Matthew Passion. Sublime. Just don’t believe a word of it.

4 Comments
myers
8/5/2012 10:02:31

I like to quote that famous New York rabbi - Woody Allen - " If God exists I hope he has a bloody good excuse!"

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Leon
10/5/2012 02:39:00

I'm reminded of the exchange between Yossarian and Mrs Scheisskopf in Catch-22. Yossarian loudly asserts that the God he doesn't believe in is a sadistic bastard. Mrs. Scheisskopf wails that the God in whom she doesn't believe is kindly and forgiving. (I wish I could find my copy it so that I could quote accurately).

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Martin
10/5/2012 04:17:45

There was an interesting review of de Bottin's book on atheism by Terry Eagleton in The Guardian of 12th January (Those of your followers who may have missed it can still find it at http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2012/jan/12/religion-for-atheists-de-botton-review). Predictably bleak and amusing, Eagleton's line seems to be that de Bottin's view on what is worthwhile in religion for atheists amounts to no more than a plea for 'The Big Society'. (As a bit of a fan of society I don't know what is the more unappealing: a Tory millionaire prime minister saying there is no such thing as society as she attempts to dismantle it so it won't get in her way, or a Tory millionaire prime minister with little experience of or interest in it, telling the rest of us we should be doing it, presumably so it won't get in his way.)

Can we do kindness and good manners and deal with ultimate meaninglessness without religion? The signs don't look good at the moment, but it hasn't been that good with it either. Best stand in awe and respect of, or have a good laugh at, what we cannot know or control ... and keep that music coming.

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Dianne Taimsalu
24/5/2012 01:49:36

Whenever I visit a church, I usually feel that God is long gone and the musty smells are those of the dust and ashes of his passing. The female principle is, however, alive and well. Candles burn before the Mary statues, and women pray before them. Religion did it's best to dispense with goddesses, but people found the female element more approachable, so it had to re-admit a certain element of femininity. I reproach the austere protestant religions for having been even more paternalistic than Catholicism, and any female element has been eliminated. If I were born again, I would turn to the Mary element in the Catholic church. (Well, I do to some extent, but that''s another story).
Two churches, however, have struck me with a "presence" and they are complete opposites. One is the simple Wren church which is near the Royal Academy in London. I have cried each time I have been there - the space is so perfect, I am overwhelmed. (By what, not sure). The other is a small Basilica we visited recently in Italy in a medieval town in Liguria. I wish I could add photos here. Once again, the space was perfect and the decoration so sober that the golden alter shone even in the gloom. A small dome in the centre let in a greenish light. The decoration was all in tones of grey, black and white. There were intricate carved statues of Mary and some saints. A Saint Sebastian writhed under the onslaught of arrows. Caught permanently in his moment of agony.
If I were born again, here, I could believe.

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     Max Smith

    European writer, radical, restaurateur and Red Sox fan. 70-something husband, father, step-father. and grandfather. Resident in Warwick, England.

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