When
religion is lost, more life may be found. In fact, it should be. But in the
process of turning away from belief there is usually a fear that the opposite
will happen.
I have a Kurdish friend in Iraq who
has been moving further away from religion every day, and so we’ve talked about
belief and the difficulty of beginning to walk away from it. Unable to believe
the stories and explanations in the Quran any longer, he recently raised a
concern that’s been echoed by almost every person who, from Kurdistan to
America and everywhere in between, began to leave religion. That is, if
religious claims aren’t true and there’s no higher power, then there must be no
point to life. While this can come in the form of either a question or a
statement, at the heart of both is a fear of nihilism and that unbelief may
necessitate it.
This is the ostensible impasse most people
come to at some point, but a little thought and creativity is enough to break
the deadlock.
“Meaning” comes from whatever makes us feel
connected with the world and emotionally full. What makes us feel live. If
“purpose” is anything different, it comes with the add-on of what we think we
can and ought to do to impact the world. No supernatural belief is needed to
find either of these, and in fact it devalues them. To say God has a plan for
you is to deny your own freedom. It’s the belief that someone else has decided
your fate for you.
We’re also told by the Good Books
that if we have any common purpose, it’s to secure our spot in the dubitable
hereafter. For this, the one requirement above all others is the acceptance of
astounding propositions on no evidence, or else expect an eternity of torture.
This is neither very meaningful nor desirable.
My own view is that rejecting faith
opens a door to a more appreciative and meaningful life. Dismissing religion
often means rejecting the idea of a greater plan, which puts the determination
of your own purpose in your own hands. You and I get to wake up every day and
decide how we want to impact the world and leave those around us feeling after
each interaction. We decide who we are going to be by the end of the day. We can
even change our minds, too.
Atheism also generally brings a
disbelief in an afterlife since there is no reason to think we survive after
our brain stops functioning. Many worry that this sucks the meaning out of
life. What it should do is make you keenly aware of your own mortality. Rather
than despair at this thought, it ought to fill us with an increased
appreciation for every day we have to take in the heat during our brief moment
under the sun. Do you enjoy a favorite food, sex, or conversation with your
best friend any less because you know it must end, and will one day occur for
the last time? Of course not. The experiences only become more cherished.
We’re forced to recognize the
transient quality of each fleeting moment, and how celebratory it is that we
are here to live through it. Awareness of death, and deeply understanding that
we’re always a breath away from it, gives us a special opportunity to really
live as if each day might be your last, because it may well be. Most people
would give anything to know they were having their last kiss with a loved one
while they were having it, or to know, as Andy Bernard said, that you’re in the
Good Old Days while you’re still in them. Every day is one of the Good Old
Days, and each kiss may well be the last. This elusive yet obvious fact can
transform your attitude.
The moral implication of this comes
from recognizing your own impermanence is shared by everyone else. Everyone can
feel ecstasy and extreme pain, and their experience as a sentient person is
just as real and important as your own. Anyone who approaches their mortality
as I described is certainly able to extend that sentiment to the lives of
others. Wanting to build the best possible existence for ourselves while we are
here, any feeling person must then extend this desire to the well-being of
others too. This was expressed well when Sam Harris implored, “Consider it:
every person you have ever met, every person will suffer the loss of his
friends and family. All are going to lose everything they love in this world.
Why would one want to be anything but kind to them in the meantime?”
The approach of the nonbeliever to
purpose is more liberating because it puts the creation of that purpose into
the hands of each individual. You choose, or perhaps discover, what your
purpose is from what you are passionate about and how you feel you can impact
the world in what you think is the best way possible, whether on the large or
small scale. You are your own architect of meaning.
Life without religion only seems unfulfilling
while one is still in the midst of doubting and unsure about leaving the only
construct they have always known. But as you move further away from faith, the
exit from Plato’s cave only brings into view expansive landscapes and a
heartwarming light that makes every day afterward all the more profound. You
may even feel, ironically, born again. There’s a saying that that life is two
dates separated by a dash. Knowing that the second, final date is always just
around the corner, you’ll treasure and make the most of that dash.
