So I’m a dad now. That’s why I took a year off from the blog.
I visited a few churches after the gospel experience. They didn’t live up. A Baptist church. Unitarian. I floundered for a few weeks, trying to figure out what to say after that gospel church. And then my wife tells me we’re going to have a baby. That’ll change a person real quick.
I’ve spent many hours staring at the eyes of my little one, thinking how amazing it is that she exists. She is so tiny and alive, I cannot help but be overwhelmed sometimes. It is easy to see why it is called the miracle of birth, and I certainly understand anyone who sees god’s hand in it. It’s almost impossible to believe. During my wife’s labor, I was reserved, stoic. But at the moment my daughter was born, I was swept away. Serious waterworks.
I have perhaps made it through one of the great tests for an atheist and come through unconverted. Birth feels miraculous, but we know enough now to understand most of it, and it is no miracle in the literal sense of the word. Sure, it is a miracle in that it is amazing and mind-blowing, but it is not supernatural, nor does it need a divine hand to cause it. I suppose other great tests of my atheism will be when I am faced with losing close family members and when I face death myself. But for the time being, I remain confidently atheist.
If anything, I feel more strongly that thanks to god for this birth is misplaced. I recall once again Dennett’s essay “Thank Goodness,” that argues thanks should go to the doctors, nurses, orderlies, and other hospital staff. It should go to those people who invented technologies and conducted research to make the delivery possible and safe. It should go to the countless individuals that have led to today’s quality medical care, with no help whatsoever from god.
I am not unchanged, though. I have greater reverence for life. It is striking to realize that I am part of a great, unbroken chain of life. Every ancestor I’ve had survived long enough to reproduce, ancestors who lived when the pyramids were being built, ancestors who lived through wars and ice ages and Krakatoas, ancestors who lived on Pangaea. My daughter and I belong to an unbroken chain of life that dates back millions, maybe billions of years, to when the earth was young. It is truly awe-inspiring, and even more so when you see birth and realize how dangerous and traumatic it is. I can’t believe people live through it (the mother or the child). How a baby manages to take its first breath, to move its arms and legs, to pump a heart that will beat every second for decades to come—it’s amazing. It’s not difficult to imagine a divinity overseeing us because it is all so damn improbable. But I will not submit myself to an imaginary superforce just because my existence is unlikely. Nor will I teach my daughter to.
So how will I raise this little one?
When I told my mom we were going to have a baby, I think she waited a couple weeks before she asked me about church. It was a topic we’d avoided for a while, as I knew she silently disapproved of the fact that I didn’t go to church. (Something tells me she wouldn’t like the reason I go to church these days.) Anyway, she had stopped pushing me to go to church, but always said that what really mattered was how I raise my kids. I got that line so often when I was dating and then when I got engaged and married.
When mom asked if I was going to take my little girl to church, I just looked at her and said, “No.” I couldn’t sidestep that one. Hurt, she said, “So you’re not going to have her baptized?” “No.” And that was that. We continued watching TV in silence. The subject has not come up again…yet.
In my earlier entries I often struggled with conflicting feelings about the value of church, especially for young people. I will not deny its many good aspects with one broad brushstroke. But my wife and I won’t subject our daughter to lies and closed-minded superstition (not to mention hours of painful boredom) under the guise of “truth.” The challenge is to instill the right values and provide a strong, loving community, without all the other nonsense.
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