The Consolation of Unbelief

The hope of non-religion in Europe and Alberta

First - to Alberta (for American readers, sometime Alberta is referred to as the Texas of Canada)

The provincial government in Alberta has announced that it is banning what they refer to as sexually explicit books from school libraries in the province. This move was made after meeting with a couple of religious groups, though the government is not commenting on any connection between those meetings and the decision about book banning.

As a Christian, I am against banning books. The rationale frequently employed in such censorship is the “protection of children.” This is curious, given that in many religious contexts leaders have protected not children, but the abusers of children. It would seem, to me, there might be a speck in someone’s eye and a log in someone else’s.

I include here a brief clip of the Minister of Education and Childcare (the title sounds dystopian given the context) trying to explain why religious texts are exempt from the ban and just what constitutes a religious text.

I know the Bible, not as well as many, but better than most. There are sexually explicit sections in the Bible (For example, youth group preteen boy favourite Ezekiel 23:20, still allowed in Alberta.) If sexually explicit (whatever that means, the Government of Alberta will tell you) is going to be banned from school libraries, then shouldn’t all sexually explicit material be banned? If it is not, then is this not an indication that the ban is actually about something else?

Christian faith, as I hold it, is on the side of not banning. When you state such things people can quickly level the accusation that you must be in support of sexually explicit materials. Actually, my view on the matter does not have to do with that. I think that it is an act of non-faith, not an act of faith to think that we, as religious people, should control what other people can access. Moralism is not faith and, historically, when the two become confused things do not work out well. So, on this one I am on the side of those working against the religious voices that are calling for banning books.

Second, to Europe (not the Texas of Canada)

My Dad was among those who repeatedly voiced appreciation for the Yogi Berra (baseball player and manager) way of communicating. Among my Dad’s favourite expressions was; “Nobody goes there anymore. It’s too crowded.”

You may have heard that it is getting to be that way with some tourist destinations. In places like Barcelona and Rome some locals are pushing back against the large crowds of tourists. Have you visited a church or cathedral in Europe and been faced with huge crowds of other people doing the same thing? Religious places like this are full, filled with tourists. Some of these visitors may count themselves as worshippers as well. However, it is safe to say that most people filling the spaces are there more as visitors to a museum then participants in a religious service or practice. It is as if we could look around at the frescoes and the columns and say, “Can you see what people used to believe?”

The cathedrals and churches of Europe are often pointed to as markers of what used to be.
“Almost everyone used to believe in God.”
“Things are so secular now.”

Statements such as these can be voiced as a kind of lament, as if, in religious circles, there is a longing for a day when more people were on the team, part of the crew.

What if unbelief was inevitable? What if it is actually helpful in regard to faith? Huge numbers of pages have been written, courses have been taught, about how particular societies moved from where not believing in God was almost impossible to where believing in God seems exceptional. Philosophers, political scientists, sociologists and others have a lot to say about this. To some degree, they are writing about how we got from a time when cathedrals were full of worshippers to a time when cathedrals are full of tourists. Somehow, some of the most religious places in the world, as in much of Europe, became among the most supposedly secular.

As a Christian pastor, I often hear other leaders lamenting this transition. I do not share that lament.

I can appreciate the beauty and grandeur of those buildings and spaces. They can inspire awe, maybe even something like faith. In what ways, however, do they become demanding? That is, how do they assume and demand faith and belief? Whatever those places accomplished, it has not been, to this point, more faith.

As a Christian, when I am in those spaces I do not find myself wishing that I lived in a time when more people believed in God. Rather, I find myself feeling gratitude that I can believe, even though I don’t have to.

You likely remember the account of a post-resurrection scene from the Bible.¹ Jesus appears to his followers but “doubting Thomas” says that he can’t believe unless he touches the wounds of Jesus. Jesus indulges this request and blesses Thomas while saying that there is particular blessing for those who have not seen and yet believe.

Do you lament that someone in your life does not believe what you believe? Do you lament that there are fewer “believers” than there used to be? Do you think that the world was better when more people believed? What time or era would you like to go back to?

As a Christian, I am very grateful for unbelief.

What if people simply kept believing in the ways that they did when those cathedrals were built? My faith in God includes a sense that God is not as afraid of unbelief as religious people can be. I don’t mean to diminish the real worldview or lack of religious belief of people. I don’t mean to enlist it as part of religious practice in any kind of condescending way.

It is the case, however, that when I am in those spaces I can find myself grateful for both belief and for unbelief. I have prayed in multiple cathedrals, “Dear God, thank you for the the faith that clearly so many who have gone before us felt. And dear God, thank you that others were honest in their disbelief.”

Clearly the time when “everyone believed” was not the best because, though religious belief was mostly a given, this did not produce the most caring, equitable, peaceful world. We need unbelief to open the possibility of faith. We can never truly know if we believe if we believe only because everyone else does or because we must.

So, allow the cathedrals to be a reminder of a time that no longer exists and be thankful that such a time is in the past, thankful even in faith.

If there are common aspects to the two items above, perhaps one of them is the matter of control, of cultural dominance. You don’t build large cathedrals and relatively large village churches only as matters of worship. You build them also to assert control, to be the highest building in the land. The way of seeing and believing that I encounter in Jesus in the Gospels is about giving up control and dominance, not achieving and asserting it.

You don’t assume that you, as a religious person or group, should hold the right to decide what other people can access. This kind of impulse towards control might be tempting for religion, even Christian religion, but it should not be considered as a marker of faith.

1. John 20:24-29