the mix

by Dale McGowan, author/editor, Parenting Beyond Belief

You've got to be taught, before it's too late
Before you are six or seven or eight
To hate all the people your relatives hate
You've got to be carefully taught
____________________

From the musical South Pacific

Our three summer family reunions were terrific, especially for the kids, who have discovered or re-discovered no fewer than 50 cousins of various degrees of remove. Better yet, these cousins are good kids, enjoyable kids, funny and friendly and loving kids.

And ohhh so very religious. Which is fine, of course.

My wife and I are the dolphins in the tuna nets of our respective families. Most all of the relations on all three sides are not only churchgoing but fish-wearingly, abstinence-swearingly, cross-bearingly so. The fact that most of them are also genuinely delightful to be around -- funny and friendly and loving -- serves as a nice slap on my wrist any time I find myself lumping together all things and people religious.

How can I not love it when my twelve-year-old second cousin, working on a leather bracelet, asks, "Mister Dale, how do you spell 'Colossians'?" (I nailed it.) Or when Becca, watching another young cousin making a wooden picture frame with the letters JIMS across the top, innocently asked, "Is that for sombody named Jim?" only to be told patiently that "it stands for 'Jesus Is My Savior'." It's sweet. It's lovely. Creepy-lovely, perhaps...but that's a kind of lovely, isn't it?

When it comes to assessing the many conservative religious folks in my life, though, there's a complication, one that still makes me dizzy after all these years. It was captured by (of all people) Larry Flynt, who wrote in the LA Times about his unlikely friendship with Jerry Falwell after the televangelist's death last year:

My mother always told me that no matter how repugnant you find a person, when you meet them face to face you will always find something about them to like. The more I got to know Falwell, the more I began to see that his public portrayals were caricatures of himself. There was a dichotomy between the real Falwell and the one he showed the public.

The same weird dichotomy is present in many of the deeply religious folks I know. Many are just plain good in word and deed, and I love having their influence in my kids' lives. But many others, including some I like so much I could burst, will be in the midst of a perfectly normal conversation, then suddenly spew bile or rank ignorance -- often without changing expression -- before turning back to the weather or the casserole.

It's not a case of some believers being lovely and others being nasty. That I could sort out. It's much more confusing. Like Larry said of Jerry, they're often the same people. But in the case of folks I know, it reveals itself in the opposite order of Flynt's description. I liked them from the beginning, then was blindsided by the nastiness.

The conversation at one reunion found its way to gays and lesbians, and a cousin -- one of my favorites, a deeply religious college graduate and the pick of the litter -- suddenly said, "What kills me is when they say [homosexuality] shouldn't be treated. Well if that's the case, why treat schizophrenia? Why treat cancer?"

All heads nodded but mine. I was searching for the perfect line. Finally it came. "And what about the lefthanders?" I said. "And those got-dam redheads, roaming the streets untreated!"

They laughed, not quite getting it, and the topic quickly moved on to (if I remember correctly) boat motors.

I find myself related by blood or marriage to several ministers, including a couple who are among my favorite people on Earth, open and honest and deeply humane, without a shred of pretense. There's another of whom I'm very fond as well, but in him we encounter The Mix. A quickish wit, he spends most of his time trying to make other people laugh. But when the conversation turned to the war and someone had the gall to mention the deaths of innocent civilians in Iraq and Afghanistan, he erupted:

"Oh innocent civilians, innocent bystanders, boo hoo! First of all, they're not so innocent. Second of all, this is war! If you are my enemy, I'm not gonna shoot you in the leg, I'm not gonna shoot you in the arm...I'm going to put one right between your eyes. I'm going to annihilate you. And the sooner I do it, the sooner the world will be safe for God's people."

Several kids were sitting in earshot, getting themselves carefully taught. I was livid. "Now there's a man of God!' I said. "Hallelujah!"

Beloved Relation looked me in the eye, momentarily wordless, then decided to play it for comedy. "Just like the old days!" he bellowed. "Kill a Gook for Jesus! Kill a Commie for Christ!"

Nice.

Anybody wish to guess the denomination that would have a minister playing so fast and loose with the Sixth Commandment, not to mention the Beatitudes? Yes, you in the back, Reverend Falwell -- what's your guess?

I listened to two high school teachers bemoaning their "lazy Mexican" students. "It's like an entire culture of unaccountability," one said. "And if I say a word about it, I'm a racist!" The other couldn't agree more. "Joo can't say dat to me, joo ees raceest," she mocked, and they laughed. I also heard them both bemoaning the posture, attitude, and irresponsibility of their non-Mexican students, but in those cases, it's because they're teenagers. For the Mexican kids, the same behaviors are attributed to Mexicanness. One group of sinners, in other words, is unforgiven.

On the ride home from one of the reunions, Erin told of a cousin she idolizes saying "I hate Democrats!" then informing the rest of the group in a whisper that Obama is "a Muslim."

My kids are plenty old enough to pick up on these things. Connor was nine when he asked, "Why does [Beloved Relation X] hate A-rabs so much?" with the requisite long 'A'. In answering such questions, I find myself struggling more than anything with The Mix, trying hard to emphasize the positive qualities of religion, to keep them away from the broad brush, to remember that we are all a Mix, to not to create my own category of unforgiven sinners. Again -- many of the religious folks in their lives are wonderful, kind, and ethical. But I can also say, with honest regret, that the greatest poison my kids hear comes from fervently religious people they know and love.

Why is that? (he asked rhetorically). And why am I so damned hesitant to point it out?

Visit Dale's secular parenting blog The Meming of Life. Read more!

Miracles R Us...

I try not to be dogmatic about atheism. I try to remain open to the possibility that the universe is more magical than it seems.

Poking around on the Web the other day, I stumbled on a blog written by a devotee of "A Course in Miracles." Twenty years or so ago, I looked at ACIM briefly, but the Jesus talk kind of put me off. This week I thought, "What the heck -- let's see what's on their website. I could sure use a miracle!"

Their methods read like a kinder, gentler form of Scientology. The system is right out in the open, not shrouded in secrecy. That's the good news. The bad news....

The "lessons" involve daily meditation on specific phrases. (I'm not sure I want to dignify them by calling them "ideas.") The first few phrases seem designed to break down the seeker's intellectual preconceptions. ("Nothing I see in this room means anything." "These thoughts do not mean anything. They are like the things I see in this room." "My meaningless thoughts are showing me a meaningless world.") Breaking down preconceptions is not a bad thing to do. If you have real spiritual insights to impart, it may even be necessary.

The breakdown continues:

"I am never upset for the reason I think." "I am upset because I see a meaningless world." "God did not create a meaningless world." "I have invented the world I see."

But as new ideas are introduced to replace those you showed up with, a curious cloud of illogic settles over the scene:

"I am under no laws but God's." Isn't that what fanatics always say when they set out to butcher their enemies? Well, yes, it is.

"Sickness is a defense against the truth." Without denying that some illnesses are caused or influenced by mental and emotional events, I think we need to consider that this blanket assertion quickly leads to a "blame the victim" stance -- that if someone is ill, it's because they haven't embraced The Truth.

"Forgiveness recognizes what you thought your brother did to you has not occurred. It does not pardon sins and make them real. It sees there was no sin." By the time the acolyte has been led this far down the garden path, the reality of evil and suffering is being flatly denied. Holocaust? If "A Course in Miracles" is to be taken at face value, it never happened. That's the plain meaning of those sentences.

"Whatever suffers is not part of me. What grieves is not myself. What is in pain is but illusion in my mind. What dies was never living in reality...." At this point, it seems, compassion for our fellow humans has been replaced by the numbness of the True Believer. When bad things happen, I do not grieve. When I feel pain, I cut off all feeling in myself so as to maintain steadfastly my faith.

That anyone gets sucked into believing this stuff -- that's the miracle. Or, unfortunately, it's not. There is clearly a human propensity to get sucked into it. How sad. Read more!

So Do You Believe in God?

by Marlene Winell, Ph.D.

I get this question so frequently, I’ve decided to make a better effort to reply. To be honest, I don’t like the question because it presumes we know what those words mean. Here are some responses, touching on more or less serious aspects of the topic.

1. Which god? Do you mean Zeus, Baal, Athena, Shiva, Allah, Jehovah, or some other? If you mean one of those, then no. I am not a theist. I don’t believe in an individual being that created and now controls the world.

2. What is belief? Is it a cognitive conclusion that I have reached based on logical consideration of evidence?

That would assume I have access to all the information, and I do not. Is it an emotional feeling for something beyond myself? Well, my emotions vary, and some days are hopeful, other days are dark. Emotions are a rocky basis for “belief.” Do I make a leap of faith, not knowing anything really, but simply wanting to “believe,” and putting stock in a “scripture” to give it support? This is also difficult because knowing about the origins of “scripture,” I know the complexity; they were not simply dictated. Also, the strength of my blind faith can also vary and I’m not sure how completely I am supposed to convince myself in order to say I “believe.”

3. The concept of “God” usually meant by this question is some sort of being that exists “out there.” The god of the Bible is very separate, superior to humans, but anthropomorphic in many ways. Other gods are also considered “out there” and have controlling powers we do not have. A more New Age notion of god includes “the divine” in all of us, and still involves the notion of “spirit” infusing people. There is an assumption in most approaches to spirituality of a kind of “force,” which can be called by different names, but which is a thing in a universe of other things. As such, I do not resonate with this idea of “god” as an entity.

4. If I must use the concept at all, I would equate it with the “nature of being.” This is close to “ground of being,” a phrase used by Tillich and then by John Robinson years ago in the book, 'Honest to God." For me it involves a perception of existence grounded in the profound science of modern physics. Most ordinary people do not know much about this. Yet, we now know from findings in both relativity theory and quantum physics, that the universe is much more strange and incredible than we ever realized. It calls for massive humility because there are things no one understands, yet we now have good reason to question all of our basic assumptions about “reality.” The difference is bigger than finding out the world is not flat. We have evidence for questioning our ideas about matter, linear time, cause and effect, and more. String theorists agree there are eleven dimensions. Yet the general population operates all day every day assuming things that are completely out of date. The knowledge has not reached the masses. This is akin to having everyone act as if the earth is still flat. The issues are intensely profound, with implications for everything we do. The big words for me are “mystery” and “possibility.” Feelings are humility, awe, and excitement. There is no religious description of “god” that matches the grandeur of the universe as it is – elusive, ever-changing, impossibly mind-boggling. And this includes us. We are part of the fabric; there is no separation. If this is believing in god, then by all means, a hundred times YES! But I’m still not drawn to the language.

A couple of quotes that I find consistent with this:

“How is it that hardly any major religion has looked at science and concluded, ‘This is better than we thought! The Universe is much bigger than our prophets said, grander, more subtle, more elegant’? Instead they say, ‘No, no, no! My god is a little god, and I want him to stay that way.’ A religion, old or new, that stressed the magnificence of the Universe as revealed by modern science might be able to draw forth reserves of reverence and awe hardly tapped by the conventional faiths.”`
-Carl Sagan



“I do not believe in a personal God and I have never denied this but have expressed it clearly. If something is in me which can be called religious then it is the unbounded admiration for the structure of the world so far as our science can reveal it.”
-Albert Einstein



5. Dispensing with the “god” word, it makes a little more sense for me to address “spirituality,” although this word has often meant a focus on other-worldly things. I prefer to describe spirituality as a way of living which is here-and-now. These are attributes rather than a definition. They involve feelings and perceptions and experiences which depend on openness. This openness can be chosen and developed. Rather than escaping into a different realm, I think of spirituality in terms of how we live our lives – the choices, the consciousness, the texture of daily life. There are several aspects of this:

Accord. This is the experience of feeling attuned with the rest of existence - a feeling of belonging on earth, being a part of the rest of nature, and in harmony with everything around. When you are in accord, you move along with the vast river of evolutionary change, feeling connected in a fundamental way with the harmony and power of the whole. You feel as though you are tapping into a rich resource that is beyond you, much larger than yourself. Your inner spring of god-within connects with the vastness of god-beyond, a "deeper power" rather than "higher power," a subterranean aquifer connecting all of life. This produces a sense of trust and safety, a knowledge that you fit, that you have a place.

Awareness. With awareness you are alive and awake, fully experiencing life. This means being totally grounded in the here and now. Your sensory experiences are vivid, and you notice what is happening when it is happening, both around and inside you. You do not reject uncomfortable experiences or deny pain; you are open and embracing of all that life has to offer. This makes it possible for you to enjoy things more intensely and to learn from difficulties. You are not trying to be on some other plane of existence, but are willing and happy to be here now, like a curious child.

Growth. Growth is a natural process. You are not static or inert; you are a changing, growing being. And your experiences can propel you to develop further. As a plant needs the attention of water and food to grow, you need to attend to your needs and consciously make opportunities to learn and change. This aspect of spirituality is active, complementing the more receptive elements of accord and awareness. As humans we are granted the exciting option of making conscious loyal commitments to move in positive directions. Learning will often occur anyway, as a neglected plant will often survive, but informed with a sense of accord and awareness, you can take action on your own spiritual behalf.

Transcendence. There are moments of awe for us in life, those times of being overwhelmed with wonder at beauty, or love, or natural power. At these moments you get clues about the immensity of the cosmos, like pinpricks in the veil around your limited consciousness. You are humbled and thrilled as you gaze at a sunset or a torrential waterfall. A moment of pure love can be ecstatic. Let your vision extend into the night sky, and you may experience a blissful dissolving of your individual ego. Not needing to understand or control, you can experience a sense of total Mystery. These moments are gifts that reflect your spiritual capacity, gifts that become more available as you open to your sense of the ultimate. This is not ultimate in the sense of above or better, but simply beyond your usual mode of consciousness. These are moments of realization knowing that the sense you have of “god” within is not only in contact with but one and the same as the transcendent “god”-beyond. You are a wave in the ocean, individual in a sense but also part of something much bigger – the immensely huge and powerful ocean of existence. You don’t understand and you don’t need to understand. All of this is multiverses away from “believing in God.”

So even though I would have to say I don’t believe in God and I am an atheist in the true definition of the word, ie, not a theist, I obviously feel compelled to question and reclaim the language being used and make this rather inadequate stab at describing my lived experience. It’s a bit defensive and that’s because the stereotype of the cold, shallow, hedonistic, selfish atheist needs to be challenged. In my opinion, it’s all about how we live, and not what we “believe.”

What do you think?

Kind regards,
Marlene Winell, Ph.D., psychologist and author of "Leaving the Fold: A Guide for Former Fundamentalists and Others Leaving Their Religion" and facilitator for retreats for religious recovery called "Release and Reclaim" The next one is Aug. 15-17 in Berkeley, CA

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SEASONED WITH REASON

Melissa LaFavers

Sacred

Lately, I've been taking strolls around my neighborhood. I walk on sidewalks mostly shaded by tall, old trees. Their branches sway in soft Summer breezes, their leaves shine bright, healthy green in the sun. I turn my face to the sky and smile in the sunshine, soaking up the air, the warmth, the beauty all around me. I feel gratitude for my feet, my legs, my heartbeat, the sweetness of a warm July day.

This, to me, is sacred.

Often I find religious folks perplexed when confronted with the idea of not believing in god. Their belief in their god is so woven into every facet of their lives that they can't fathom how life could have meaning of any kind without the imagined presence of their heavenly father hovering over everything they do, say, think.

Many atheists have been accosted by a variation of the question, "If you don't have god, how do you have any morals or meaning in your life?"

Religion, as we all know, doesn't corner the market on morals or meaning. We humans have the ability to attach meaning to anything we do. Atheists and secular humanists may need to be more creative to define our lives without the ready-made boxes and labels that belief in god and religion provides, and we have much more freedom without the confines of established dogma.

I have a young friend who is a new mother. She is faced with the dilemma of bringing her daughter up without belief in god, while still wanting to create meaning for her, specifically in connection with seasonal celebrations, and wanting to allow her daughter to make her own choice of religion when she is mature enough to think for herself.

Celebrations require neither belief in god, nor religion. While we are both essentially atheist, my husband and I find a great deal to celebrate in what Wiccans call the Wheel of the Year. Most religious holidays have a basis in ancient Pagan festivals which were anchored in the cycles of Nature. We live in the natural world. We experience the delights of nature on a daily basis and don't need to believe in any deity to celebrate. We do join in celebrating the Winter holiday most people refer to as Christmas, though I find it more and more difficult each year to use that word. I prefer Yule or Winter Solstice. One of the things I love the most about the holiday season is the carols, and I've started to substitute "Solstice" for "Christmas" because it makes it more meaningful to me as I feel no connection to the story of Christ and his birth.

But I do feel connected to the magic of millions of intricate snowflakes falling from the sky on a blustery Winter day, to hot chocolate after shoveling my long driveway. I also feel connected to the first green shoot of a crocus as the cold begins its slow retreat and the wheel turns from Winter to Spring and all its new life, Nature awakening in a thousand different glorious and colorful ways all around me. I feel connected to the lush life of camping on a Summer weekend, the dance of a million distant stars in the night sky, the jubilance of an evening storm pelting our tent with a few raindrops, the song of Lake Huron lapping at the shore nearby. I connect joyfully to the parade of windblown Autumn leaves through a chilly afternoon, the scent of wood smoke from someone's first fire of the season, the zest of a ripe apple picked fresh from a tree by my own hand, the pleasing glow of a jack-o-lantern on a dark evening, the dazzling array of pumpkins at the local market.

Creating celebrations can be as elaborate as hosting a Halloween costume party, or as simple as sipping cider by a bonfire with friends. We can celebrate moments privately by reciting a poem or lyric on the anniversary of someone's death, or we can celebrate publicly by singing the national anthem with a crowd of people before a 4th of July fireworks show. The options are endless, and none require that we hide our reason in a box.

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Godless Grief- It's Okay to Feel

When we're sitting at home and realizing that we have to face people for the first time in a group situation after the news hits us-- perhaps it's just after learning that we have a friend in a hospital, or perhaps it's when we are summoned by a university to attend a massive convocation and vigil-- but we have to somehow find it in ourselves to face other people, despite our own shock, and our own pain.

The way we personalize our pain is unique. No one has a correct way to grieve. If someone is telling you "Oh, yes, well you're in X phase", chances are, you are not. You are in whatever phase you are in for that moment, in that time, in that day. One minute you may be laughing at a joke you had never even thought about since you were ten years old. The next you may find yourself huddled in bed and absolutely resolved never to leave. Either is perfectly okay, and both are absolutely the right way to feel.

But we aren't always given the luxury of our own time, and our own space. We aren't always allowed to be by ourselves, and that can man our grief is now a public affair. How are we supposed to keep it together when we are put in a situation such as a public funeral? Or what about being in a hospital, when a friend or a child is possibly never coming home alive? What is expected of us, and how are we supposed to behave when we have no idea what our emotions will lead us to think or react towards at any given moment?

First, you are around other people who are likely just as confused and as lost as you are. There are likely people who are naturally drawn to certain roles in these situations. Some are going to be the ones who play strong, silent leaders. Others will be quietly taking in the events around them, generally shocked or just holding off any response until they feel safe. Still others will be the basket cases, tossing out a variety of reactionary responses based on a number of catalysts including everything from the lighting to their own family history. Some of us are good at living in the moment, or are seeking out others to care for so we don't have to deal with our own pain until it is a time when we are feeling stronger. All of these roles is correct, and all of these roles should be expected. This is why you often find one family member taking up the cause of handling the details of funerals and feasts, and perhaps one stirring drama and another even missing altogether. These roles naturally occur during tragedy as they do weddings, or any emotionally charged event.

It is okay to be the one who doesn't attend the funerals. The person who doesn't attend is often the one who is given the cold shoulder by other family members, and I find that reaction appalling. To me this is the brave act of a person who understands his own ability of grieving. If he has no reason to seek closure through a funeral then I see no reason why he should be expected to attend one. Those who seek him are doing so for their own reasons, which can be tended to at any other time. Guilt has no place in grief. It's a very cruel tool that is used to manipulate others and certainly should not be used during times of sorrow.

And, it's okay to be the one who is emotional during time of sorrow and confusion. Men who have emailed me are never the ones who are embarrassed over tears. The people who complain more about tears tend to be those who have never shed them. I find those who are most likely to be afraid to cry are older women, those who have held families together as single parents, or those who have lived and fought as female soldiers. There's almost a wall built that won't allow them to be weak for enough time to acknowledge that their fear or sorrow. For what it's worth, I am now giving these women, and anyone permission to feel whatever pain and sorrow they need to feel. And, I give you all permission to cry if that is what you need.

Crying is not a physical action. The act of crying is a physiological reaction that has a chemical reaction not unlike that of some antidepressants. It helps to release some of the triggers in our minds that allows us to feel the painful sadness. Animals cry. We are animals. We forget this sometimes. But we have a biological need to do what animals do to function as a healthy being. This includes crying. If you do not think you have the right to cry, I am giving you the permission slip, and you have that right. You are as human as I am, and in your humanity, you own that right.

It's okay to scream, and yell. Anger is a part of grief. Anger directed at something positive, like something that helps you grow stronger, such as physical fitness or even singing to a recording, or screaming into a pillow, is perfectly normal, and even expected. Anger often causes people to move forward to actions. Actions that have come from anger include the creation of the United States, the recording of multiple albums, the Live Aid events, and millions of other positive changes of random order which popped into my head at the thought of it.

None of these emotions comes in any particular order. Some may even hit you when you are at these functions which you are expected to attend. It's up to you to determine how you should respond to the events at hand. Do you need to restrain the emotions you have just to get through, for the sake of children, or those around you? Is the event being televised? Do you have to wear specific clothing? Do you want to wear something that reflects your emotions if you are unable to express them verbally?

Remember, no one has been through the exact moment you are going through and you are the only one who can judge your own reactions. But whatever you feel, and whatever you understand, it's okay to feel. As long as you are not harming another person, or yourself, you are absolutely feeling the right things. And if you feel that someone should be harmed, then you may need to talk to someone who is better equipped to help you deal with your reactions. In that case, you can turn to any of the counselors advised by your friends, or family, or even those found on this forum.
--

Cathe Jones is the author of the book, Godless Grief, and the moderator of the writing group, Las Vegas Quill Keepers. She resides in Las Vegas with her husband, jazz pianist Mike Jones, and is represented by Janet Rosen of Sheree Bykofsky and Associates.
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Low cost spots at recovery retreat

Hello everyone,
I posted a notice a while ago about the workshop we are doing Aug. 15-17. I'm pleased to say we have some space for "pay what you can" participants. The room and board is still $125 but beyond that is negotiable. So get in touch soon if you are interested!
Kind regards,
Marlene Winell

Here's the notice again.

LEAVING YOUR RELIGION?

It's not the end of the world! Join us at a recovery retreat.

"RELEASE AND RECLAIM"

August 15-17, 2008, with Dr. Marlene Winell

Do you feel alone in your struggle for healing? Come to a supportive and powerful weekend with others who can understand you -- an oasis from dogmatic teachings and judgmental groups. We'll rant and rave, tell our stories, discuss the issues, visualize, role-play, dance and draw – whatever it takes to think for ourselves and reclaim our lives. A joyful, empowered life is your birthright and you can start now.

WHEN: FRIDAY, Aug. 15, 7PM - SUNDAY, Aug. 17, 3PM.

WHERE: A beautiful house in Berkeley, California,
with hot tub and other amenities.

COST: $320 for the workshop, $125 for room and board. Financial need considered & options available.

TO REGISTER: Call 510-292-0509 or send an email to recoveryfromreligion@gmail.com. Register soon as group size is limited.


Dr. Marlene Winell is a psychologist & author of "Leaving the Fold: A Guide for Former Fundamentalists & Others Leaving their Religion." She has a practice in Berkeley & also counsels individuals by phone. For more info, mailing list, comments about retreats, & Youtube link, visit: www.marlenewinell.net. Or call Dr. Winell for a complimentary discussion about your interest. Read more!

THE MISSING LINK (Atheist Tales)

The Missing Link

A young archaeologist, who happened also to be an atheist, had many and sundry religious friends. Knowing that he was both an archaeologist and an atheist, they took great and constant glee in pointing out how the gaps in the fossil record disproved Darwin’s theory of evolution. “Without the missing link,” they chortled, “you have nothing!” Although he had a sensible response to their gleeful accusations, the response was complicated to deliver, not wholly convincing, and typically met with gales of knowing laughter. So usually he made no reply—hardly a satisfying outcome!

Sometimes he dreamt that the perfect fossils had suddenly appeared all at once and answered every question. It was a lovely dream, usually set in a cream-colored desert that was also, as was possible in dreams, a lush savannah full of lions and gazelles. The dig and find were scrupulously recorded in every conceivable way so that no one could doubt that the fossils had been extracted from virgin earth. It was the perfect setting, the perfect dig, and the perfect result. The young archaeologist would smile in his sleep and not feel the slightest twinge of envy that he hadn’t been the lucky—and soon-to-be world famous—archaeologist of record.

One evening he found himself hanging out in a seedy archaeologist bar not far from the university. Lost in thought, he sipped his wine and dreamed of fossils that no one had ever seen and the creatures those fossils recorded. A tap on his shoulder startled him. A man he didn’t know, who looked like one of those all-but-dissertation thirty-five-year-old faded graduate students, was breathing in his face.

“May I join you for a second?” he said.

“Certainly.” The young archaeologist waved him to a chair.

“You come highly recommended,” the man said, sitting down and pulling his chair close. “I’m in sociology. I’ve been studying the worldwide harm done by religions. I’ve spent fifteen years at it. I keep thinking: can’t they be stopped? One day last week a light bulb went on. I had a brainstorm. But I need an archaeologist to pull it off. I asked around—and people recommended you.”

The archaeologist felt a tingle run down his spine. Flattered, intrigued, and excited, he learned forward.

“What’s your idea?” the archaeologist said, his voice lowered.

“You know the missing link thing?” the man said.

“Do I ever!” the archaeologist exclaimed. “I get smacked around with that all the time!”

“Let’s make believe we found it!” the man whispered. “You will ‘find’ it and I’ll enlist other archaeologists to corroborate the find. Maybe we’ll ‘find’ several missing links at once, like an underground meteor shower! Maybe we can get hundreds of archaeologists in on the gag and have missing links found in every country on every continent! Aren’t you tired of being bludgeoned by the gap argument? Let’s ‘find’ a ton of missing links, all the missing links anybody could want, and then we’ll lock them away like some religious relic and not let anyone else see them. We could pull this off!”

The archaeologist, disappointed at being presented such a ludicrous and unsavory scheme, nevertheless pondered the man’s idea. “Of course, we’d be lying--” he began.

“They lie with their every breath, going on about gods!” the man interrupted. “It’s just tit for tat!”

“More importantly, that’s not the way science operates.”

“Science has to get down off its high horse and fight in the trenches. There’s a war going on!”

The archaeologist bit his lip. “I appreciate your argument and almost don’t disagree,” he said. “Almost.” His head swam. “But I couldn’t do it.” Suddenly his mind cleared. “And you shouldn’t pursue this,” he said. “It’s a bad idea. It’s beneath us.”

“Should I run through a litany of the horrors of religion?”

“Save your breath,” the archaeologist said, turning away. “I’m not interested.”

The man shrugged. “Some archaeologist will join me,” he said, getting up. “Of all the archaeologists in all the archaeologist bars in all the university towns the world over, some archaeologist will join me.”

“I wonder,” the archaeologist replied, turning away from the stranger.

The man’s plan disturbed him. He understood the argument that sometimes you had to fight fire with fire. Sometimes you had to pull off dirty tricks to achieve a righteous outcome. But that truth, while undeniable, was still a souring one. It meant that the battles and wars would never end. It let in everything you wished would one day vanish from the face of the earth. He finished his drink and left the bar in a bad mood.

That night he had bad dreams. Devilish fiends were making false finds in a coal-black landscape, cackling at their tricks, pulling out bones that never were and never could be and parading with them in monstrous dances around bonfires from hell. The archaeologist sat up in bed and shook himself; but as soon as he fell asleep the nightmare returned. It seemed that the man had ruined his beautiful dream of a righteous find.

About two weeks later the young archaeologist was having a drink with a colleague at the seedy archaeologist’s bar.

“Did you fall for that sting?” his colleague asked.

“What sting?”

“That thing that was going on here? That guy from the Freedom from Evolution Foundation, posing as a sociologist? They were trying to see how many archaeologists would be willing to falsify the fossil record!”

“No!” the young archaeologist exclaimed.

“He couldn’t find a single one. Not here, not in any archaeologist bar anywhere. There were some close calls—a fellow in Ann Arbor almost bit, and one in New Haven came this close. But ultimately no one agreed!”

The young archaeologist nodded. After a while, he found himself smiling. Yes, they would always use such tactics; they would fabricate, trick, lie, and scheme. On his side, the side of science, many unsavory activities would also occur: falsified research, unholy marriages with business, and more. But at least this time, in archaeologist bars in university towns everywhere, no archaeologist could be found to falsify the fossil record and provide the world with an unearned missing link.

That night his sweet dream returned. He dreamt that the perfect fossil had appeared and answered every question. It was the same lovely dream, set in a cream-colored desert that was also a lush savannah. The dig and find were scrupulously recorded, so that no one could doubt that the fossil had been extracted from virgin earth. It was the perfect setting, the perfect dig, and the perfect result. He smiled in his sleep; and in the morning he returned to work, a proud and happy archaeologist. Read more!