I receive, at regular intervals, a free online newsletter entitled “Religion and Politics” which is published by the Danforth Center at Washington University in St. Louis. A recent article–“Can Atheists and Muslims Support Freedom of Conscience Together?”–it reminded me of two different encounters I had a couple of years ago.
Written by Qasim Rashid, a writer and national spokesman for the Ahmadiyya Muslim Community, and Chris Stedman, Assistant Humanist Chaplain at Harvard: first, here are some portions of the article . . . and then I’ll reflect upon the two encounters this article evoked.
“Thomas Jefferson once wrote: ‘But it does me no injury for my neighbor to say there are twenty gods or no God. It neither picks my pocket nor breaks my leg.’
For many of us, it’s easy to appreciate Jefferson’s eloquently stated advocacy of religious freedom of conscience, as well as the idea that all individuals should be able to express religious or non-religious positions independent of others’ beliefs.
Today, [however], few corners of the world are immune from the oppression of conscience.” At which the authors then provide too many unfortunate (if not tragic) examples of such oppression throughout the world, ‘though none from the United States. Not that such, however subtle or not so, doesn’t also exist here in America.
They continue . . . “In an increasingly globalized and interconnected world, how can we achieve freedom of conscience while embracing civility and respect in the face of vast and polarizing religious differences?
As an example, let’s look at atheists and Muslims. Or, in this case, one atheist and one Muslim. As members of minority communities in the United States, the two of us recognize that true freedom can only exist when it is rooted in mutual respect. Likewise, oppression thrives in its absence. It is crucial, however, to recognize that true civility cannot be dictated, but can only exist through personal accountability . . . The only agent that can truly regulate matters of the mind and spirit is the individual. Another’s religious beliefs, or lack thereof, should not threaten an individual’s sense of self.
Thus, freedom of conscience requires civility and cooperation. We co-author this piece respectively as an atheist and a Muslim to illustrate this principle. While many people in the United States seek to inflame a so-called ‘clash of civilizations’ between our respective communities (and others) by promoting Islamophobia and anti-atheist bias, the two of us engage in intellectual, civil, and genuine discourse–which allows each of us to express our perspectives in a candid but respectful manner. We may never agree on some matters–and that is fine. In a world where freedom of conscience and expression are rare, agreement is not our primary concern. Recognizing another’s fundamental right to disagree while respecting his or her humanity and highest principles, however, is central to our ability to productively exchange ideas in the first place.
Civility also builds trust. By engaging in respectful discourse, we ensure two things. First, that even the most sensitive questions about the other’s beliefs can be asked–as they should be–without censorship. Thus, we do not avoid important or difficult questions out of fear of ‘offending’ the other. Second, regardless of whether we agree on an issue, we emerge with significantly more appreciation for one another and significantly less ignorance. In the end, that knowledge is of priceless benefit.”
Which reminds me of when I was asked, a few years ago, to speak–as a radically committed Christian–to a local gathering of Secular Humanists. Since I have been a leader in the important advocacy of Americans United for the Separation of Church and State, here in Charleston, I have had considerable involvement with these particular folk, most of whom claim to be atheists.
If my atheist friends tend to promote the First Amendment to our nation’s Constitution in the service of rejecting religion, I do so not only to support their “freedom from religion” (the corollary to “freedom of religion”; since you can’t have one without the other, as that isn’t “freedom”), I do so also to promote the integrity of religion–certainly mine; or for that matter, anyone else’s. Since, if history–past or present–reveals anything, it is that anytime religion and government/politics become bedfellows, each tends to corrupt the other.
In my speaking, as a Christian minister, to that group of Secular Humanists, at least two different people asked me revealing questions. I know both of these persons and consider them friends, even when we may disagree, at least on certain matters religious. Here are the two questions and my responses.
“You are so respectful of us atheists,” the first person said to me, “and I appreciate it. How do you explain that?”
To which I replied, “I believe that our common humanity is more important than anyone’s ideology–yours or mine or that of whomever.”
At which the second person asked, “Are you trying to convert us?”
And I replied, “I’ve never converted anyone, and if I ever tried to do so–which I’m sure I have–I’ve long since stopped. I simply believe what I believe, religious or otherwise, in a way I consider to be reasonably informed. And I’m as forthright in expressing my doubts, struggles and conflicts as in expressing my convictions. Just as others may hold beliefs or claim an understanding different from mine. If I have any influence on anyone, I hope it has to do with the integrity out of which I seek to live. I try to pay more attention to ‘my own business’–emotional, moral, spiritual, social, political, practical, or whatever (which is a quite big enough job, at least for me!)–than in trying to tend to ‘other people’s business.'”
In reflecting on these two encounters with two different atheist friends, the first seems to have reflected what Mr. Rashid and Mr. Stedman are advocating in their article, “Can Atheists and Muslims (or Christians or any other kind of religious/spiritual persons?) Support Freedom of Conscience Together?”
I suspect, however, that the second of these two friends, compared to the first–that she was “projecting” on to me a suspicion which derived from her being less secure than he in relating to someone like me, given our differences. Indeed, differences that reflect a significant degree of what Paul Tillich would call “ultimacy.”
Ironically, if anyone were invested in “converting” whomever in that exchange, my training and experience leads me to suggest it was likely the person asking the “Are you trying to convert us?” question.
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