Chapter Eight

The Danger of Religion

My heart tells me there is a god. Yours may tell you something different. I am okay with that.
Fundamentalists are not. This defines the greatest complaint I have with fundamentalism as a
whole. They are dissatisfied with and unable to accept the fact that someone might disagree with
their belief system. They are determined—required, really—to go beyond a friendly
disagreement. They must convert the unbeliever.

To be fair, one must realize that a cornerstone of religion is conversion. A religion without
converts will quickly fade and die. To truly accept a religion, with all its nebulous facets and airy
promises, one must wholly embrace it. One must become a near fanatic. Anyone who feels
strongly enough to convert will likely feel strongly enough to share it with others and be
disappointed when they don’t exhibit the same level of enthusiasm.

Imagine a co-worker arriving at the office with pictures of the new baby in the family. The co-
worker is ecstatic and flaunts the photos relentlessly. To avoid hurt feelings, it is expected that
everyone show at least a measure of interest, even though nobody really cares. There are times
when people simply must share personal experiences. Religion, with its innately personal and
often inspiring tendencies, qualifies as such.

So we can excuse the zealous convert, can we not? They may be annoying at the office, but no
more so than the guy who screams at the copy machine or the woman who wears too much
perfume.

Of course, it goes deeper than that. Believers are often genuinely concerned for the spiritual
well-being of the person they are attempting to convert. They are convinced that if they do not
succeed in winning them to Christ, the sinner will die and spend eternity in hell. Believers are
often required to visit the “highways and byways” in search of converts. In my church, for
example, you were considered to have blood on your hands—be partially responsible for the
sinner’s damnation—if you didn’t do all you could to turn them onto the straight and narrow.
“Go ye into all the world and preach the gospel to every creature.” (Mark 16:15)

My argument is not with the fact that someone accepts a faith, feels good about it, and wants to
share. My argument is with the believer who demands my conversion or else. The office worker
may force me to look at the baby pictures and I’ll survive, but when they say that I must either
agree that it’s the cutest baby ever or go to hell, well, that’s crossing the line.

The sheer arrogance of this approach is simply mind-boggling. I feel somewhat like Christopher
Hitchens, author of God is not Great, when he says that he will need to hear a lot more
apologizing from Christians about the trouble their religion has caused before he will allow them
to lecture him on morality.

My real sadness is for these same believers, however, because their god apparently isn’t big
enough to handle his own problems. He needs people to run around and make nuisances of
themselves in order to accomplish his will. Their god isn’t big enough to handle criticism or
honest questions and needs his people to quiet the opposition and quell discontent. The void in
their religion saddens me. I can feel comfortable with my questions and uncertainty, because I
know God is not petty enough to resent it and is wise enough to expect it. God is not
unreasonable and doubtless recognizes a large part of the faith concept to be just that. “I am
going to give you evidence of nothing and expect you to believe everything,” God reportedly
says. Does this sound like an omnipotent, reasonable being?

Although I hold strong opinions regarding religion as a whole, it is necessary to be careful not to
commit the same transgressions religion commits. While religion attacks those who do not share
the same beliefs as do they, it is equally easy to attack those who do not disbelieve the same
things. Neither approach is acceptable and both are equally destructive and petulant.

I should make it clear that I do not suggest believers are evil. American churches are full of well-
meaning people who perform good works and have dedicated their lives to the advancement of
others. They are to be commended for their dedication and sacrifice. My problem lies with
religion itself, with the ideal and the organization. The problem with religion is that the truly
selfless workers are a minority and largely overshadowed by the self-righteous, judgmental
culture that exists at the core of nearly all Christian churches.

My disgust with religion, however, must coexist with my grudging admiration for the
effectiveness of its methods. Karl Marx wrote that “religion is the opium of the people.”
Although Marx wasn’t entirely disparaging religion with these words, the phrase rings true.
Religion and drugs are disturbingly similar.

Consider a crack dealer who will often give samples of his product away for free, knowing he
has likely created a lifelong customer. He has set himself up as the sole provider for this person,
eventually becoming the centerpiece of their life. The Church is much the same. They preach a
message of guilt and fear. Once they have people hooked on the message, they reveal themselves
as the provider of salvation. “Follow us and receive peace. Adopt our creed and be eternally
secure.” People crave assurance and knowledge of the future. Some of the craziest religious
leaders have received vast attention simply by claiming to know the future. 99.9% of the world
knows intellectually that they’re nuts, but…what if?

The Church doesn’t pretend to tell the future—at least not the immediate future—because that is
an unsustainable claim. They do promise the next best thing, however, and that is to see that it all
comes out right in the end, as long as one is faithful. There’s the catch.
The more conspiratorially-minded could make a case that the construction of religion was
intentional in purpose. It really would be a brilliant scheme—trading people assurance of
salvation for their allegiance, i.e. time, money, dignity, and talent. The point could be made that
the prevailing fallacies about God are so detailed and insidiously brilliant that they cannot be
accidental. Is it a far stretch to say that religion was intentionally created by men in order to
better control other men? In any case, it succeeds wonderfully in this manner.

The Church, in particular fundamentalist groups, guides its flock in all things: behavior,
entertainment, speech, wardrobe, sex, and finance. It dictates that a member cannot do certain
things, enjoy certain things, say certain things, and wear certain things. Sex is for marriage and
between a man and a woman. Oh, and don’t forget to tithe at least 10% and give liberally in
special offerings.

Additionally, Christianity has been very clever in building their base support around ideas that
cannot be either proven or disproved. An opponent of the faith cannot unequivocally say there
will not be a Second Coming of Christ, for example, because it is a future event with no set date.
The folly of excess certitude can be seen in the unceremonious death of various cults that
routinely arise, claiming to have pinpointed the day of Christ’s return. The hour comes and goes.
Because the cult’s foundation was built on a single impending event, it quickly crumbles once it
is seen to be a farce.

Christianity avoided that mistake. Like most religions, it is founded on the idea of faith: “You
must simply believe.” This is why arguing with a believer is often so pointless. If they feel the
discussion turning against them, they can simply fall back on the intangible faith issue. This is a
weak-minded defense, the easy way out, and much akin to the default child’s argument of,
“Yeah, so, I don’t care.”

By the same token, a believer cannot prove their faith to a non-believer, but must convince them
to accept the same level of blind faith. How do they do this? If examined honestly and critically,
it sounds pretty fantastic. Let’s examine Christianity in a nutshell:

The first two people on earth were originally perfect, but committed a sin, thereby bringing evil
into the world. This evil stalked humanity for many years and the only way to atone for it was by
periodically killing animals. Then God had a son and sent him to earth and had him killed
instead, putting an end to the need for animal sacrifices. Now all we have to do is believe this
happened and we’re good.

As fairytale-like as it sounds, the story has gained legions of followers, as have other major
religions. Sub-religions—branches of existing belief systems—many of which make far crazier
claims, also gain followers. Why do people accept this?

Fundamentalists have no real evidence to back up their claims, but seem to base most of their
arguments on the idea, “What if we’re right and you are wrong?” The idea that this is, in any
way, a viable source of proof is beyond ridiculous. I could employ the same strategy by stopping
random strangers on the street, demanding their money, and threatening to call down fire from
heaven if they refuse.

“That’s ridiculous!” they’d say.

Playing the part of the fundamentalist, I would raise a knowing eyebrow and reply, “But what if
I’m right…?” Meaning, of course, that by giving me their money they will have assured their
own survival.

While this particular get-rich-quick scheme would have no chance of success, religion has
employed a similar strategy brilliantly, even down to the “give me your money” part. Millions of
people have fallen for the line and decided to play it safe by joining one religious cause or
another.

Religion exploits the innate uncertainty of man. It promises everything in return for, well,
everything. In this way, one gives up everything they currently have in order to gain something
else at an undetermined later date. Not the greatest of investments, but an impressively clever
ploy. Since the rewards are post-death, one cannot prove or disprove the claims. People die and
are said to have “gone to their reward,” presumably regaining everything they gave up, with
interest.

Something inside mankind wants the stories to be true. People will believe anything if they can
be made to desire it. It happens every day in countless ways. A wife so badly wants to believe
her husband is faithful that she believes it, ignoring the nightly smears of lipstick on his office
attire. An overweight, dieting person convinces himself that one doughnut won’t hurt him, so he
eats two. It’s human nature. But what makes people desire to believe? Fundamentalists say this
desire is proof itself that what they say is true. “The world is hungry for what we want,” I often
heard them say.

What is the appeal of religion? What are the odds that the religion you hold, and the particular
sect in which you find yourself, is the correct one? I recounted earlier that Bob and I used to
marvel at this, although at that time we were convinced that we had somehow been chosen by
God to be blessed in this fashion. It never occurred to us to either question such a coincidence or
buy a lottery ticket, possibly because both actions would have been considered sin.

I do believe there is a spiritual void inside humanity. One into which God fits nicely. However,
one must first carve and sand all the religion off him in order to make him fit. We have been
trained to think that God and religion are inseparable, that you cannot have one without the other
and simply must choose which religion best suits you and then follow God within the dictates of
that faith.
A Christian comedian, Mark Lowry, does an amusing bit during his appearances where he calls
out the names of different faiths: Baptists, Catholics, Lutherans, etc. Each group cheers as he
calls out their title. At the end, he pauses and then says, “Just think. Somebody’s wrong!”

He makes an excellent point, one that can be taken a step further by saying all of them are
wrong. The odds of any single group getting God right are just too small to consider. The idea
that man could create a set of beliefs encapsulating God is arrogant in the extreme. Man has
developed to individually seek after God and discover him in their own way, whether it be
through prayer, meditation, or nature.

Religion, however, has taken God hostage and provided an oasis for people unwilling to take
responsibility for their own spiritual journeys. It provides an easy way out: “Don’t think about it.
Just believe what we believe and do what we say and you’ll be fine.”

This would obviously be appealing to people, particularly since many—perhaps most—of us

have been raised to believe in eternal punishment if we mess up here on earth. Yet this is exactly
the point. It is simply too easy.

This is another reason religion is so dangerous—it discourages thought and question.

Intellectualism is feared by the Church, a fear thinly masked by disdain. By disparaging
individual thought they hope to discourage its use. If one begins to think for oneself the
possibility exists the thinker may arrive at a conclusion at odds with the Church. This cannot be
allowed.

The beliefs of the Church compose a massive jigsaw of notions and dogma, each linked and
mutually dependent. The destruction of one leads to the failure of another. To question one pillar
of belief puts the entire structure at risk.

By energetically encouraging its people to examine the assertions of religion, the Church feels it
would, in essence, be devouring its young. Yet there is criticism to be faced when an attitude of
blind faith is imposed, so often there is a surface smile when a member appears to question.

I am reminded of the day I informed a concerned church member, who had approached me about
my spiritual condition, that I was searching for the Truth. This announcement was met with a
knowing silence and then they said, “Well, just remember in your searching that there are some
things that can’t be questioned.” Then what was the point? If certain issues are off limits, why
bother approaching them at all?

There were “safe” topics to debate in my church: water baptism, whether Jesus could have
sinned during the temptation of Satan, and the exact chronology of the rapture. Other topics were
taboo: entire sanctification (holiness), the trinity, the ability to live without sin, the infallibility of
the Bible, and many more. Upon examination, it became obvious that the Church was willing to
let its members question issues that had no effect on the Church’s authority. Anything
resembling a core belief had to be protected, lest a crack be discovered in its foundation.

The fact of the matter is, however, that many people seem to want to believe in what religion
offers. Perhaps therein lies the secret of its success. There even seems to be an attraction to the
notion of God as angry and full of judgment. Of course, these are generally the same people who
are unhappy unless they feel they have been wronged. This is referred to as the “martyr
complex.” They are willing to be mistreated and live in fear as long as they are the center of
attention. That is what religion teaches: “God loves you so much that he wants to hurt you.”

There is also the pride factor. With a god who demands ever more devotion, it is possible to
create competition among believers, with the most deprived, humble, dedicated, and chaste
Christian gaining the prize. Without a jealous god, such devotion would be pointless.

Lastly, guilt is a great motivator. If God wants you to be happy, doesn’t actually care about most
of the stuff you do, and is more than happy to let you make your own choices, then a person is
presented with a great deal of personal responsibility. It takes a lot of self-discipline to stay pure
and devoted if you don’t have to worry about going to hell. The idea of God as merciless judge is
necessary to keep people in line and working diligently.

Even with the unpleasant tendencies of religion, however, are people better off believing in
religion than not, even if religion’s beliefs are faulty? It doesn’t really make people better, it just
makes them sneakier about doing bad things. There are evil people in the ranks of both the
religious and secular, and to my knowledge there are no statistics that indicate what percentage
of murderers were also church-goers. However, it is perfectly clear that religion does not stop
people from behaving poorly. Deacons have beaten their wives, Sunday School teachers have
tempted their pastors, ushers have dipped into offering plates, and those in power destroy the
reputations of those under them.

I certainly do not suggest that all church-goers are immoral, simply that the ranks of the religious
are just as inhabited by such behavior as the secular, while the secular world contains its fair
share of philanthropists. Secular people give to food banks, assist stranded motorists, visit the
sick and elderly, and dedicate their lives to public service. If religion doesn’t change you, then
what is the point?

I know of many people, some of whom may be reading this book, who will protest this position
by pointing to their own lives, how they behaved in one way prior to belief and another after.
Assuming the change was positive, I congratulate them. But again, one cannot solely credit
religion with such a turnaround. People have quit smoking without the help of the Church.
They’ve forsaken alcohol or promiscuity without a service attended or a farthing dropped into an
offering plate.
A belief in religion is largely a cerebral endeavor. The power of positive thinking, while it
receives more credit than it deserves, does figure into one’s ability to succeed at any given
undertaking. If you whole-heartedly believe in religion and trust it will help you quit something
you consider a vice, you have a much better chance of actually reaching the goal. If you want to
believe your sins are forgiven and you are now on the way to heaven as a result of a prayer, you
are going to feel happy.

Let’s say you grew up believing that cotton candy was the greatest thing on earth and if you
could only find it, all would be right in your life. You lived for cotton candy, although you had
never eaten any. Everyone around you said they had tried it and it was indeed the answer to life’s
problems. The search for cotton candy consumed your life and you looked high and low, traveled
the world, and spent your life’s fortune searching for the elusive treat. Then you came to me and
I said I was the world’s only manufacturer of cotton candy and that if only you would buy and
eat some, you would be assured of a long life. Would you not feel happier after having purchased
and eaten the cotton candy? After years of searching, you had found your heart’s desire and
attained longevity. In short, a belief can make you happy, even if that belief is untrue.

Conversely, a belief can make you unhappy, whether or not that same belief is accurate. I know
people who believe in the teachings of the Church, but have chosen to shun them. They “know”
they are going to hell, but cannot submit to religion’s authority. Their belief system is faulty, but
it still makes them miserable. This explains to a large extent the idea of conviction. Simply
walking away from a lifetime of teaching does not remove those ideas from your mind. They
follow you everywhere, affecting your mood and mental state. Often the inner pressure becomes
too much to bear and the prodigal ends up returning to the Church simply as a way to relieve the
pressure and achieve peace of mind.

While religion can provide a measure of peace, it has caused at least as much conflict and strife
than it has prevented. We read about the presentation of the Ten Commandments, after which the
nation of Israel continued to brutally attack and destroy its enemies. Rather than solve the
world’s problems, religion has given men an excuse to perform even more evil deeds: “God told
me to.” It was in the name of God and religion that the Inquisition rose to power, heretics were
burned, prisoners were tortured, slavery was put into practice and continued, science and its
supporters were attacked and discredited, and wars were waged. Does the perceived, possibly
misguided, peace of a number of people justify the rape and murder of millions of others?

As horrible as the aforementioned deeds are, they are made worse by the fact they are so often
credited to God. If ever he trembles with wrath, it is not when the seeker questions the path of
religion, but when religion uses his name to destroy the seeker.

Going back to an earlier discussion, we now ask, “Is religion intrinsically evil?” Is it the belief
system that is faulty or is it merely the human tendency to abuse power that makes it so? I would
submit that it is both. As designed, religion is too easily manipulated and has, over the years,
become hopelessly corrupt. Religion in and of itself can be a cure. In the hands of mankind, it
becomes a poison. Without mankind, religion’s cure is unnecessary and impossible. Therefore,
by religion’s mere existence, it will by necessity become a poison.

It would be ridiculous of me to say that an idea in and of itself is evil, for an idea without the
means to complete itself cannot have character. However, we have seen over the centuries that
organized religion invites misuse and must therefore be viewed with grave suspicion or,
possibly, outmoded altogether in its current form. I do not mean to say that we humans have
outgrown religion and that we have progressed in an evolutionary sense past the need for such
trifles. I do suggest, however, that organized religion, while it may have begun as a noble
experiment and served some incidental, worth-while purpose, should now give way to what
Christianity has always claimed to be: a personal mode of faith.

Churches do not hold the keys to salvation or everlasting life. If there was ever a time when
traditional, organized religion as we know it today served a useful and worthwhile purpose, I
would submit that time has passed. We have no need of widespread control by spiritual dictators
when God is directly accessible and without malevolent tendencies.