Atheism For Dummies (For Dummies (Religion & Spirituality)) (93 page)

The idea of a festival on or around the winter solstice predates Christianity by millennia. It’s always made sense to gather with those you love and celebrate friends, family, generosity, and compassion in the depths of winter, and I delight in doing exactly that.

And oh, for the record — although an atheist or two may grumble or howl when someone wishes him or her Merry Christmas, most atheists don’t mind in the least. In fact, some say they really celebrate “Krismas,” the spirit of generous giving embodied by Kris Kringle. So when they say, “Merry Krismas,” they’re celebrating a different myth entirely! (I kind of love that a lot.) “Happy Holidays” is also lovely — a very nice attempt to include those who aren’t Christians. Inclusiveness isn’t an attack, folks. The “War on Christmas,” like many other culture wars, is a fabrication — useful to some agendas and annoying to everyone else.

Then there are holidays with entirely natural roots. Because the Earth spins on a tilted axis, the days grow longer and the nights shorter for half of the year, then reverse for the other half. Deep poetry exists in feeling the swing of that planetary pendulum. On just two days a year, in the middle of those two cycles, day and night are balanced at 12 hours each — the spring and fall equinoxes. One is the beginning of the long sleep; the other signals the coming resurrection of life each year. I seem to recall that some religion somewhere has borrowed that idea for its own story. And why not? Good things are worth borrowing.

The list goes on — Earth Day, Halloween, the Mexican Day of the Dead, Hanukkah, Chinese New Year, even satirical holidays like Festivus. Nonbelievers and believers alike are free to celebrate what they want and skip what they don’t.

Celebrating birth

Stopping to mark meaningful life transitions has been a part of human culture for as long as culture has been around — and I can’t think of anything more meaningful and inspiring than the birth of a child. Some of the most moving ceremonies I’ve ever seen have welcomed a child into the world and into a caring family and community. Sometimes the child is held high as family and friends raise their hands high around her, symbolizing their support. Sometimes water is sprinkled, solemn or joyful words are spoken, and a rose or a book or a candle focus attention on the promise of a new life. It’s powerful stuff.

Many of these rituals included reference to God and religion, but not all — and the religious element is never essential to create something meaningful. Family, community, and the wonder of an interconnected world all give every life context and meaning, regardless of a person’s opinions about gods. Unitarian Universalist fellowships and Ethical Culture societies are just two examples of communities with warm and meaningful dedication ceremonies full of emotion and symbolism — and reliably free of the supernatural.

There’s also a growing tradition of humanist naming ceremonies. Held anywhere from birth to age two, these ceremonies often include readings — anything from Marcus Aurelius to Dr. Seuss — songs, and family stories. The centerpiece is often a description by one or both parents of the origin, meaning, and family significance of the child’s name. My favorite part is the naming of one or two special adults — usually called “mentors” instead of godparents — who promise to be a source of support and guidance for the child.

Although christenings or baptisms declare a specific religious identity for the child, humanist-naming ceremonies don’t declare the child to be an atheist or a humanist — at least none that I’ve seen. Autonomy is a very big deal in the freethought community, and the idea of calling a child a “Christian” or an “atheist” flies in the face of that value. Instead, humanist parents will often underline the importance of letting their children work out their beliefs for themselves. (
Chapter 19
discusses more on parental approach.)

Coming of age

When I was about 13, I went through a serious bout of bar mitzvah envy. A Jewish friend had his, and I was hooked. Not with memorizing a chunk of the Torah or having to follow the 613 Commandments in the Law of Moses. (Eating raisins is one of the things forbidden, I kid you not.) What attracted me was the idea of going through this formal passage from childhood to adulthood. Sure, I was going through that transition myself already, but gradually. Having a
moment
is different; it’s a time when your community says, “Okay, you’re not a little kid any more. You have more privileges, but we also expect more from you. Now have some raisin-free cake.”

The
quinceañera,
the celebration of a girls’ fifteenth birthday in Latin American culture, is another such coming-of-age tradition. Once linked to Catholic ritual, it’s more and more often celebrated secularly in recent years.

Unless you count a particular birthday — 16 maybe, or 18, or 21 — the transition into adulthood usually goes unmarked today. The main exceptions are religious denominations, where there’s obviously a big religious component. The child isn’t just becoming an adult, but also taking on a religious identity.

Some humanist groups around the world have created meaningful, human coming-of-age rituals. The trick as always is to keep the things religion has done well without the belief-pledging and raisin-banning bits. One of the most successful in the world is the Humanist Confirmation program in Norway. Each spring, more than 10,000 15-year-old Norwegians take a course about life philosophies and world religions, ethics and human sexuality, human rights and civic duties. At the end they receive a diploma at a moving ceremony with music, poetry, and inspirational speeches. They’re confirmed not into atheism, but into an adulthood grounded in the human values that underlie civil society.

UUs and Ethical Culture have similar coming-of-age programs, focused on the things most important in that transition — ethics, civic responsibility, sexuality — without stepping on the young person’s autonomy about worldview and other allegiances. It’s a beautiful thing.

Getting hitched

Religious church weddings have been the default for centuries. But the last few generations have seen the growth of alternatives to the standard clergy in front, Pachelbel’s Canon, What-God-has-joined-together, Love-is-patient-love-is-kind wedding. Beach weddings, Klingon weddings, heavy metal weddings . . . I once heard the actual vows delivered Green Eggs and Ham style (“And I will love you in the rain, and on a boat, and on a train”). And you know what? There wasn’t a dry eye. It was a perfect reflection of the couple’s funny and casual approach to life.

For many years, most nonbelievers still ended up getting married in front of a clergyman in a church, myself included. If I had it to do over, I might go for a humanist wedding led by a humanist celebrant — an officiant trained by a humanist organization to perform meaningful and memorable nontheistic ceremonies of all kinds.

Like naming ceremonies and other adapted rituals, humanist weddings allow a couple to create an event that’s meaningful and appropriate for them without invoking religious traditions or a God they don’t believe exists. Though still somewhat uncommon in North America, humanist weddings have recently become enormously popular in Europe. In Scotland, just to take a single example, more humanist weddings are now performed than Catholic weddings. And they’re projected to pass weddings in the Church of Scotland, the largest church in the country, by 2015.

Until recently, marriages solemnized by humanist celebrants weren’t considered legal in most US states. Even Elvis impersonators marrying people in Vegas had to get themselves church-ordained first. In case you’re wondering if it has something to do with the strong glue religion is said to provide a marriage, consider the fact that in the United States:

Twenty-seven percent of born-again Christians have been divorced, compared to

Twenty-four percent of other Christians, and

Only twenty-one percent of atheists and agnostics

Fortunately in recent years, humanist celebrants credentialed by such US-national organizations as the Humanist Society have received the green light to conduct marriages in all 50 US states.

Humanist weddings aren’t always dramatically different from religious ones. They usually have readings and music, an exchange of vows and rings, and a gathering of witnesses. In some cases it’s possible for Aunt Mildred to get all the way to the reception before she wrinkles her forehead and says, “Hey, wait a minute . . . ” On the other hand, creating an event that doesn’t look one bit like a traditional wedding is possible. That’s one of the benefits of any step away from tradition — people can shape something new that fits the individuals involved better than the received tradition ever could.

And what better way to start a life together than by affirming only the things in which you actually believe?

Remembering the dead

You’d think nonreligious funerals would be sad events, and they most often are sad — just like religious funerals, but no more so. I’ve been to dozens of religious funerals, and despite the implication that the departed has now become a glorified being in the very Presence of the Creator, people cry — kind of a lot. That’s because no matter what you think happens next, death is sad. One way or another, a loved person is no longer here.