Kidnapped by Faeries

This weekend is Canadian Thanksgiving. This afternoon I'll catch the bus to Toronto and spend an evening with djjo. For the weekend, bitterlawngnome has invited me to a gathering of Radical Faeries at Amber Fox, a farm in Eastern Ontario.

Radical Faeries defies description. But RadFae.org has this to say:

We're decentralized, and nobody's in charge -- so every faerie who you ask will give a slightly different definition of "Radical Faerie." Generally, we tend to be Gay men who look for a spiritual dimension to our sexuality; many of us are healers of one kind or another. Our shared values include feminism, respect for the Earth, and individual responsiblity rather than hierarchy. Many of us are Pagan (nature-based religion).

Some aspects of this resonate with me, particularly the focus on nature and community. I haven't had much practical exposure to Paganism, despite dating or befriending a few men who practiced it. Occasionally people assume I am Pagan because of my intense involvement with nature. But my own spirituality is atheistic, pragmatic and highly introverted. Except when I write about it, ha!

So I'm going to meet leafshimmer and some other men. We'll be camping, so I hope this fine weather holds, but last night someone told me the weekend forecast is beginning to crumble toward rain.

I probably won't get home or have much opportunity to check email until Tuesday, but I'll have photos and stories when I return.

Grappling with religious tolerance

I had an unpleasant experience with an LJer a few weeks ago, because he knew I was an atheist. I don't talk much about my beliefs. I am highly tolerant of other people's religion and spirituality until someone tries to project them onto me.

Well a gay writer friended me, expressed great admiration for my writing, and, without much preamble, started emailing his work and asking me to critique it. It was heavily permeated with Christian ideology, which was fine. But I kept feeling that he was trying to win me over, either through flattery or drawing me into a debate. I didn't bite.

Then one day he wrote to me, "You may not believe in God, but he still believes in you."

I took offense at that, and told him so. I said it gave me the impression that his correspondence with me had an agenda. He knew about my Christian background and should have known how his words would affect me. He responded that I was intolerant, and a hypocritice for advocating religious tolerance.

I wonder how he would have felt if I had turned the statement around and said, "You may believe in God, but he doesn't believe in you." It sounds like an insult to me.

I never addressed my beliefs to him except in response to his statements and inquires. I never invited him to discuss religion. I usually keep my beliefs to myself. Having them come under attack pushes a lot of emotional buttons. I told him I didn't want to communicate through email anymore, that our discussions should stay on LiveJournal. He emailed me again, but I let him have the last word. He never commented on my journal again, and a few days later he removed me from his friends list, and I reciprocated.

Some people seem to think atheism is some kind of default position, or that I chose it out of rebellion against God, so I deserve some kind of pity or charity.

On Tuesday I went for a walk with a friend. I told her I have begun to identify as polyamorous, and she came out to me as bisexual. That was a hurdle for both of us (and yes, Pete, she has received nasty, condescending criticism, especially from lesbians, for identifying as bi). Then, knowing that she is a committed Christian, I admitted I'm an atheist.

"Oh, Van, I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed.

She knew about my church history, and obviously assumed atheism was a result of disillusionment with the church. It wasn't.

"Actually I'm happy with it," I said. "I never felt that God or Jesus didn't love me. And I didn't stop loving God. I just realized that the existence of God didn't make sense to me anymore."

That realization was a difficult one. It came to a head after 9-11. If life just happens without supernatural intervention, if we're only here because that's the way the universe works, if there is no absolute good or evil, then what's the point in having values, and how do we choose them? I had to find answers to those questions, and I did.

Humans have evolved as social animals. We need community. So the needs of the individual must be balanced against the needs of the group. That's why we behave altruistically, and it's important for our survival. It even explains why we invent religions: to reinforce social values.

These are some of the things I believe, but I don't expect other people to buy into it. I wouldn't dream of criticizing anyone for believing in God, as long as their faith doesn't manifest as bigotry. A friendly, good-humoured debate can be illuminating, but I don't relish it.

Mostly, I just prefer people to respect that atheism is important to me and informs my values. In this way, it is the same as other people's beliefs.