"The Book Of Mormon", Theater For Young Adults

Restaurants in downtown Chicago have very close seating arrangements. The couple next to us at the sushi restaurant, who were kind enough to take our picture, mentioned that they were going to see "The Book Of Mormon" after dinner, and we smiled and said we had seen the afternoon showing. Their response was somewhat predictable.

Fellow Theater Goer (eyebrow slightly raised): "Oh, is it a good Mom and Daughter show?"

Me: "Maybe not for every mom and daughter, but it worked for us."

My daughter: "It was really good."

I should add that my daughter is in the 6th grade. 

She really likes Glee, and that show goes to some pretty dark places. From a parenting perspective, "inappropriate" shows give some good opportunities to pause the DVR and discuss. Still, before planning this trip, I desperately wanted some feedback from other parents who had taken their preteens to the show. I wasn't terribly concerned about the blasphemous parts of the show. (Although, to be sure, if you're raising your child with anything but a pluralist take on religion, this becomes a very big concern.) I just wanted some sense of how much of a challenge this was going to be for me as a parent when it came to the non-God related content. Unfortunately, the only article I could find was one from the New York Times. The reporter had been "uninvited" because his kids were... well... my daughter's age. Not exactly encouraging.

I called the theater to make sure I wasn't headed for the same scenario, and was reassured that if I felt she was mature enough to handle it, I wouldn't have any trouble at the door. Once again, I was given a strong warning that this show didn't just have "some adult themes", it was downright shocking.

Still, I'd also seen the interview where Matt Stone describes the show as their attempt to answer the question, "What would an atheist love letter to religion look like?" Good enough for me. Anything that helps me drive home the point that skepticism towards religious truth claims is healthy, but cynicism about the inherent worth, dignity, and intelligence of religious people can destroy what could otherwise be great friendships has some serious value to me as a secular mom. Tickets to premium seating in hand, I reassured her that I was open to talking about anything that didn't make sense to her or bothered her. I let her know I'd pay for the therapy if she didn't feel comfortable talking to me.

If you're not planning to see the show live (tickets can be tough to come by) or you've already seen it, feel free to watch the video below. If you haven't seen it live yet, and want to, wait for it. One of my least favorite parts of doing the research before the show was how difficult it was to avoid spoilers.

You know your kid best. The themes in this show concerning religion include its power to give people strength in the face of truly frightening odds, and the somewhat bittersweet notion that even clearly false beliefs can be used to cause positive change in the world. These go hand in hand with some other obvious truths; you can bend superstitions to say whatever you want them to say, people will embrace the things that speak to their own fears, and this isn't always a positive thing in society. The villain in this show has a superstitious fear of the power of the clitoris, and he has the guns. Enough said.

If conversations about the holocaust, gay marriage, racism, and Jerry Sandusky aren't unfamiliar territory in your home, this shouldn't be too much to handle. Really, how else are you going to get a chance to talk about the ancient practice of Chinese foot binding and relate that to the horrifying practice of female genital mutilation? Children are raped by HIV positive people in Africa, in the hopes that this will cure their condition. Do you want your teenagers completely oblivious to these facts about the human condition? If the answer to that question is yes, for you as a parent, then I'd take a pass. Even though you really do find yourself empathizing with these earnest young missionaries in their clean white shirts who are in way over their heads, you probably wouldn't be terribly comfortable with the discussions afterward. If, on the other hand, you enjoy laughing your ass off and don't mind finding creative ways to approach awkward conversations in a way that works for your teens and pre-teens, then by all means, go. The show is transcendent, and Katy Perry lyrics have much worse moral messages when it comes to sex.

For the record, coming out of the theater, my daughter let me know that she would not be needing therapy, and she sang along to a few of the songs when I popped the CD in on the way home. The worst consequence of taking her was our shared giggling over the fact that we will never, ever, be able to listen to the song "Jeremiah Was A Bullfrog" the same way again. Frogs. Hilarious.

Seriously, just go see it.

One Size Does Not Fit All: Spiritual Fitness Training And The 33%

“Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage.” 
― Lao Tzu

Military families have emotional needs that go far above and beyond what most of us will ever deal with; in a culture that is built around being "tough", depression is a silent killer. The top brass are taking notice, and this is a Good Thing. "Ask, Care, Escort?" Yes, yes, and oh hell yes. 

There are, however, some pretty serious problems with the way this push towards recognizing the psychological demands of military service and building resilience against things like PTSD and depression is being supplemented. Enter a whole new type of assessment: Spiritual Fitness. In this test, soldiers are asked to watch a series of video testimonials from "spiritually fit" leaders who say things like:

Well I believe that it doesn't necessarily have to be God or a Deity like that, I think it goes back to having something to... having something to believe in, you know, having purpose. Being driven... "I will see my family again." That is purpose, that motivates, that gives people the drive to accomplish their mission.

All well and good, except the token humanist (and I don't use those words lightly) who gave this testimony would have failed the actual test. Atheist soldiers, who put their one and only life on the line, are unlikely to respond positively to some of the other more overtly theistic "spiritual" testimonials.

You could do it alone... but it would be so much better to go with a higher power. I think that's very important.

A) I'm not alone. I have my friends, my family, and an entire world with new people to meet, new things to see, and new ideas to explore. 
B) I don't think it's very important to try to force a God into that picture. Been there, done that, and I have the t-shirt. It says "Reason Rally" on it. 
C) Bad coffee is the only thing the military should have in common with a 12-step program.

I remember not wanting to live... I was not motivated... my commander noticed that, too. He was like, hey, you need to bring your performance up... after about two to three weeks, I started coming around and using the church as the foundation and just believing that it was gonna get better, and it started to get better.

Good for her. Not good for me. Not good for atheists in foxholes who aren't at all conflicted about the position they take with respect to religion, or for agnostics who find very little worth exploring in religious beliefs. Lying to yourself and others for the sake of building a "spiritual community" is never healthy.

Nearly 1 in 3 Americans under the age of 30 are religiously unaffiliated. With those statistics in mind, there's an excellent bit on PBS that speaks directly to this topic.

Watch Godless Chaplains on PBS. See more from Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly.

Rock Beyond Belief was a great step forward. It was not, by any stretch of the imagination, the end of the road.

While the VA's website goes on and on about the positive benefits of spirituality in the healing process, the fact remains that roughly 33% of the people taking this test are going to be told that they are spiritually deficient, and recommended to counseling from someone who knows just what they should believe in order to become "healthy". The 800 number they are given to help them develop their spiritual health leads to a suicide hotline. 

Being told your apathy or outright opposition when it comes to religion makes you spiritually unfit for duty is not a morale booster. Arguably, it's doing more harm than good for a third of our troops, who have zero incentive to rock the boat and say something about it.

We need humanist chaplains who can provide insight into the fastest growing demographic in the country, people who can give empathy and support for soldiers who are forced to confront questions about the faith they were raised in that they may never have truly come face to face with before, and it's very unlikely to happen without civilian help. We owe the 33% within our military a debt of gratitude. Bumper stickers that say support our troops are fine. Actions that actually protect the career opportunities and emotional health of our soldiers are better.

Schadenfreude, Feminism, And The Battle Of Five Armies

On a blog on the net, there was a feminist. Not a nasty, slimy, filthy blog, filled with plots of castration and world domination, nor yet a dry, bare, sandy blog devoid of humor: it was a feminist blog, and I liked it. Then the trolls came smashing through the doors and that blogger had to step away from the angry people.

Suffice it to say, the internet doesn't always bring out the best in us, particularly when we go all Human Torch on each other. I miss Jen's writing. I recognize that not everyone does, and some people were just as elated when she quit as I was sad. I get why it happens, though. In a word, one simple and elegant word that should be taught early and explored often, it's schadenfreude. If you've never heard the term before, Scientific American has a great article on it that begins with an excellent description:

There is no English translation for the German word schadenfreude—that small, private rush of glee in response to someone else’s misfortune. But everyone recognizes the emotion, even if he or she might not have a word for it (or admit to feeling it). 

There's nothing quite like a challenge over the rights to wear the Real Feminism™ label (and whether or not people who want to tear down anyone who isn't a Feminist™ do more harm than good) to bring out the angry in just about anyone. Jen threw down the gauntlet with Atheism Plus, and the secular community exploded. I don't particularly feel the need to go into the details of the latest flare up... if you're following it, you have your own opinions, I'm sure. Long story short, a guy got into a flame war that turned pretty ugly, and there are a lot of people who don't feel he deserves to have a position of leadership in the secular community because of it.

There's a petition out there right now to get Justin to step down, and it's dripping with Schadenfreude, and that's where I draw the line. I don't have to like the way a person behaves online or offline to acknowledge and appreciate a relentless pursuit of goals I care about.

Part of third wave feminism is the recognition that everyone has an opinion to share, and there is no monolithic best way forward. For some people, the notion that anyone should pull their punches and tread gently when egalitarian concerns are brought up is insulting. For some people, the entire idea of us vs. them infighting is, in and of itself, the problem. Call them "chill girls" or "privilege deniers", sure, but if you do it with scorn, you're missing the fucking point. Feminism isn't about what one person, or even what many people, want it to be. It's a constantly evolving reflection of the entire human effort to end sexist attitudes towards women altogether.

This means that we value the voices of the chill girls along with the voices of the shrill girls along with the voices of the somewhere-in-between girls (and boys) who are also individuals, each with flaws and strengths of their own that they bring to the table. Together, we make up the women and men of our community, all of whom are fighting very hard to advance a common goal.

I started this off with a riff on the opening of "The Hobbit" for a reason. The end of that book has a lovely bit where the good people of Middle Earth are getting ready to tear each other to shreds because they can't figure out how to compromise and work together. All the while, the real battle is waiting on the horizon, and it's a battle they can only win if they put their differences aside and work together. While Tolkien himself despised allegory, I'm a fan.

(Please note that my opinions are my own. I'm a secular woman, I'm not *the* Secular Woman. And really, that's kind of the point.)

Cutting down the lines of communication, shunning, and sniping are tactics that should only ever be employed as a very last resort. Communication is key. Even if we have to sacrifice our schadenfreude to do it well.

Bless her Little Heart

It's one of those phrases that can mean so many things-- kind of like "praying for you".

Had an interesting discussion this morning with someone who just really, really failed to get it. It began, as most warm mornings with a clear blue sky when the calendar reads 9/11 do, with a discussion of how we reacted on that day. One person said it was her last day as a Christian. Another chimed in quickly to say she would pray for her.

Now, there are quite a few kinds of prayers. Some are grounded in empathy or grief. They are an expression of the deepest wishes a human being could possibly have that a bad situation will improve, that pain will be healed, and that good things will happen in the wake of horror. They are the silent agonizing thoughts that desperately hope for intervention from some force outside of the natural world to make things better, like the ones I and every other even remotely "spiritual" person in the world had as they watched the twin towers crashing down into rubble eleven years ago. They are usually private. When they are shared, they are often shared from a position of humility in the face of something huge, not knowing if they will be answered, or even heard.

I may take some flack for this, but atheists have them, too. We are tiny clusters of very old and well organized stardust, and our lives are over in a brief flash in human history. They don't even register in the long view of time. The ultimately inconsequential truth of our fleeting existence does not mean that we don't hurt for humanity as a whole when we see suffering on the scale that we saw it eleven years ago, or that we do not want to make the world a better place.

When tragedy strikes, we bypass the supernatural part. We talk with our friends. We write to leave a record of what we feel, not always knowing if anyone will hear or care, and not always in the public eye. I don't think it's too far off to say our blogs and our journals and our hopes to be that change we want to see in the world are our secular prayers. I recognize these things for what they are-- our hopes, our dreams, and (when we act on them) our legacy to future generations. They are the glue that holds society together and causes us to reach out to one another for support and comfort when we need it, and to give it when and where we can. We are, in a very real sense, little more than what we share with one another. We grow when we confront what we might otherwise hide from ourselves.

Some prayers, on the other hand, are less noble. Call them "selfish prayers": the prayer of an exasperated mother that an overtired child will go to sleep; the prayer that a sticky work situation will be go away after a good night's sleep; or the prayer that an unexpected windfall or the kindness of others will help solve financial problems. (More on that later.) Atheists have these thoughts too, but tend to handle the day-to-day trials and tribulations from a strictly pragmatic approach. We look for advice from our friends, family, social networks, doctors, and lawyers. We bring meals to our sick friends. We argue for what's right and hope it finds a receptive audience. I'm not saying that people who appeal to a supernatural power do these things any more or less than atheists do. We just cut out the thoughts directed towards the middle man when we do them.

But there is that final kind of prayer... the kind of prayer that atheists get from believers who are sad to hear that we have "lost" our faith. Call it a "pity prayer", or an evangelical prayer. It's the kind of prayer that asserts one Truth, and flatly rejects the possibility that this truth may be wrong. It's the kind of prayer that assumes those "other" belief systems are wrong, and many if not all of the world's problems would be solved if only everyone would convert to the True way of thinking. It's the kind of prayer that condescends, while simultaneously demanding respect.

Atheists have these sorts of sentimental wishes, too, when it comes to religion. In the past, we were sometimes silent out of fear we would be killed, beaten, burned as witches, or simply cast aside by society. To be very clear, that's still a risk today. We are social animals, and callous rejection and judgment based on religious beliefs or lack thereof can cause real pain. Or, you know, risk of death if enough people don't react to actual persecution loudly enough. I'm going to call it what it is, self-righteous garbage of the most dangerous sort. We mourn the atheists in foxholes who have died protecting the people who cause that pain, and we get angry when their very existence is denied, belittled, or ignored. This attempt to claim a monopoly on the moral high ground is base tribalism, and does not play well with others.

Don't like it when we deliver a dose of reality? Then, please, hear our "prayer".

****

As an important aside, if you like the pendant, and you want one, click the pic. The proceeds are being used by the artist to help fund a custody battle for his daughter, after being totally cut off from all contact for far too long. Earlier this year, he had to fight against a move to terminate his parental rights. Why? Because he's an atheist, and the grandparents didn't want their grandchild exposed to that. That little girl who loves her daddy is who I think of when I hear the phrase "attacks on religious freedom", and the back story here might help explain my particularly strident mood today. The discussion I mentioned at the beginning of the post? Yeah, it happened on his Facebook page. Please feel free to share with your friends. At $10 a piece, they won't pay off the lawyer, but every little bit helps.

What's with the A+ Thing?

There's a new brand of atheist activism being kicked around the blogosphere these days, and some really great discussions have popped up as a result. I want to start by stating clearly here that I am drawing a line in the sand between atheism and the atheist community as a whole. Atheism in and of itself is just a simple statement that says you don't believe in a god(s)/ess(es). Some atheists watch football on Sundays, check none on the religious affiliation surveys, and that's about the limit of how deeply they connect with religion or debates about religion. Some live in countries where religious beliefs are the exception, not the rule, and the idea of seeking out an atheist community is somewhat bizarre to them.

When I talk about the atheist community, though, I'm specifically referring to the people who *do* want to connect with each other to raise awareness for social issues we care about. It's not okay when we're told we need to leave our distaste for the good old boy's club at the door. We want a way to say upfront that we demand to be treated with basic human dignity, and resent being told to be quiet when we speak up about that. Some of the responses I've seen are cautiously critical (see also: Emily Dietle's assessment), and raise concerns about creating an elitist club in response to white male privilege. Irony. It's a lovely thing.

If you want a social justice movement that focuses on embracing diversity without centering on a specific set of religious beliefs, it's called humanism. If that appeals to you, and you also don't believe in supernatural forces, then you have secular humanism. Humanism is a broad and well organized movement with a global presence that we can be a part of without having to come up with new labels.

The problem, of course, is that humanists in general are at best a bit embarrassed by the very vocal atheist contingent within its midst, and at worst outright hostile to us. (To be fair, this may be a reaction to being called delusional idiots because they aren't naturalists. More on that in a bit.) Also, humanism alone does little to address the problem laid out by Sam Harris:

"While moderation in religion may seem a reasonable position to stake out, in light of all that we have (and have not) learned about the universe, it offers no bulwark against religious extremism and religious violence." 

So, yes, the labels we use do matter. If we don't offer up that bulwark effectively by challenging directly the notion that any person can claim to know for certain that God exists, much less what he wants us to do in our bedrooms or what rewards await us after martyrdom, who will? Humanists? Possibly. But any population that includes believers in its midst is going to have to tread very lightly around these topics if they don't want their membership to turn elsewhere.

Which brings me directly to the other, much more glaring problem that I haven't seen addressed yet. The Atheist Movement struggles when it comes to following the "Don't Be a Dick" rule. (To be equally fair, this may be a direct result of being called immoral and dangerous to society by the same people who threaten our livelihoods and even our safety in certain parts of this country.) I'm not just referring to misogyny within the movement or racially insensitive billboards at this point, although these things are certainly the impetus for the new direction. I'm referring to the general tendency to focus so strongly on calling religion an irrational hangover from a past drenched in superstition that we aim far, far too wide. People who might otherwise be drawn to what we have to offer as a community or even as decent human beings who don't automatically assume that religious = not worth listening to are instantly struck by a sudden urge to wash their hair or watch Doctor Who instead.

Which leaves us exactly where when it comes to leading the fight against religious extremism and religious violence? Ah, yes, an echo chamber of maybe, at best 10% of the American population. Not all of whom vote. Lovely. That'll help. What good does it do to hold the intellectual high ground if we shut out the people who could be standing there with us on issues we care about? I remember seeing a lot of my religious friends reposting this sign back in April:

And you know what? It doesn't bother me in the slightest that they're religious. They get it. They've seen Fred Phelps and his gang, and they're pissed off, too. They understand that people can be good without god (progress!), and we should be working together to simply be kind, regardless of our religious beliefs or lack thereof. Atheism, plus the support of people who are fed up with messages of hatred and intolerance. Humanists, cafeteria Catholics, Buddhists, Pagans, Hindus, Muslims, Sikhs, Jews. Hell, even the occasional Young Earth Creationist can agree on that message. It doesn't mean we have to agree on anything having to do with religious doctrines, or argue about which invisible robes fit best on an unseen creator, or count the angels dancing on a pinhead. Those are debates that they can have within their own communities.

But these causes that we have in common? We are stronger united than we are divided.