An atheist's approach to mystery

[Silent3]

There's a great deal of mystery to be found in this world of ours. No matter how much we learn, no matter how much we begin to understand, our ignorance is, and likely always will be, as an ocean compared to a tiny portion of knowledge we hold cupped in our hands.

Yet an atheist can, as many atheists do, look upon what is known of our universe, can ponder what lies beyond the limits of the limited knowledge that we possess, and feel awe and grandeur and splendor. Despite the cramped and sterile view of the universe many theists seem to think an atheist must possess (and which perhaps a few dull and unimaginative atheists do possess), an atheist can experience the emotion of wonder just as fully as anyone else. I might even venture to say an atheist with a disciplined skeptical mind can experience a sense of wonder more fully than others might.

Why might I say this? Because such an atheist knows how to let wonder simply be wonder. Such an atheist can embrace mystery without turning to mysticism, finding in mysticism not an appreciation of mystery but an attempt to deny mystery and replace it with imagined privileged channels of knowledge. An atheist can face the unknown and consider a broad range of possibilities while resisting the urge to quickly filter that broad spectrum into narrow bands derived solely from the fears, desires and needs of the human psyche.

I have no problem imagining anyone's God. My problem is that I can imagine far too many gods, and have yet to encounter any one god which is so special that It demands a special place amid a sea of unresolved mysteries. The gods I have encountered are either far too vague to be interesting, or their specifics seem arbitrary choices rooted in human frailty, vanity, and limited imagination. None of these gods help explain what little I do know of the world around me any better than a lack of gods explains things, and some of these gods carry baggage which outright contradicts what I know through evidential means.

If you want to appreciate mystery, think big. Don't ask where the Universe came from or how it was created, but rather wonder why there is rather than there is not. To imagine a God creating a universe is to fail to see that the empty stage upon which this God would act would already be a universe itself, a universe equally in need of explanation. Ask yourself how the word "create" -- a word which implies a passage from a point in time when a thing does not exist to a point in time when it does -- can even properly apply to the origin of the Universe, because absent the Universe time itself is absent, and the concept of "creation" has no meaning.

I try -- and fail miserably -- to imagine a Nothingness so profound that I know my own idea of nothing, the starkest, emptiest most profound Nothing I can imagine, is still too much of a thing to be where I want my mind to go. As best I can, I try to ask myself why there is Something, Anything, rather than a Nothing more thoroughly void than the best Nothing I can fail to imagine? In doing so, I realize that I simply do not possess -- nor can I see that any other human being possesses -- the ability to even ask a properly Ultimate Question of origin, freed as that question would have to be from the most basic concepts of time and place and existence which intrinsically underpin any thought I can hope to form.

Were I partial to mysticism, as opposed to appreciation of mystery, I might stop here and point to this Question which I don't know how to ask, or to an imagined Answer to the Question, and say "That is God". But where would applying the label "God" take me? Having found an idea to call my God do a slew of other Divine Attributes automatically get to come along for the ride? Does this God love me, does it desire worship, does it provide me with an immortal soul and a plan for that soul's salvation, does it have a strange fixation on what I do or don't do with my genitalia?

Of course not. My newly minted God would be no more than a convenient label for an idea from which all of these other attributes can flow only by virtue of wishful (or fearful) thinking, not by logical extension of anything intrinsic to the idea itself.

Can I imagine having a soul? Yes, I can, but I can also imagine the lack of a soul, and still value myself and other living beings, still feel awe and wonder that ordinary matter can achieve such marvelous complexity through self-organization that it ends up one day asking questions about itself and its own nature.

Can I imagine there being some Divine Purpose for my life? I can imagine that too, but I can also imagine purpose as being nothing more than what we make of the idea of purpose. I can see that my desire for a purpose in no way makes the Universe obligated to provide me with one. I can ask those who believe in a Divine Purpose the question, "What greater purpose is fulfilled by the fulfillment of Divine Purpose? I've saved my soul -- now what? I've help God build His Kingdom -- now what? Eternal Paradise sounds awfully nice, but what does having one accomplish?" After much predictable evasive dancing about, I should be able to lead an intellectually honest believer to see that whatever emotional satisfaction might come from imagining that one is working toward fulfillment of a Divine Purpose, there is no ultimately satisfactory answer to the reason we exist to be found within the concept of purpose.

Further, I can imagine many possible Divine Purposes attributed to a plethora of possible gods, but then I will decry the compelling lack of evidence for choosing any one purpose among them all, seeing among all of the Divine Purposes ever proffered by existing human faiths the same problems I have with all of the gods offered by those faiths.

Where does imagining so many possibilities while committing to none of them leave me? Not totally adrift if that's what one might wonder. Limited though my own knowledge and our collective knowledge is, there's still a great deal to "believe" in, if by "believe" one means "accept as the best possible depiction or explanation of things in the world I live now available, to the best of my ability to understand". These "beliefs" can be very strong where evidence is strong, and while I remain capable of contemplating many possible ideas, that doesn't mean I can't be a fierce advocate for what I currently believe is the best among those ideas.

Where questions of ethics and morality arise, I say that a desire for an ultimate moral foundation does not at all imply the existence of that foundation, yet I can still move forward by taking responsibility myself for the values I choose to live by. The best that I can hope for is to find common ground with others in defining a fair and just world. Unlike speculating about gods and souls and the like, when it comes to how I act in the world -- as even inaction becomes a form of action -- I am compelled to chose how to act. I cannot simultaneously act in many different ways the same way I can simultaneously entertain multiple metaphysical ideas, so here I allow my own human emotions and desires, tempered by an intellectual process which seeks self-honesty and self-consistency, to drive my choices, simply because I have little else to go on. If there's any ultimate "right" way of doing things, no one, myself included, has shown clear evidence for such a way. In the meantime, I am not dissatisfied by the possibilities of what a rational human search for morality based on finding common ground might be able to produce for moral guidelines, and I can live without believing that an imaginary Big Daddy has to be there to make everything ultimately come out right in the end.

Even without believing in "spirits" per se, I think that the feeling I have when I regard mystery is the same feeling that many people might call "spiritual". It's not always a comforting feeling. I look upon mystery and restrain myself from imposing my needs and desires upon it. That which is unknown is unknown. The unknown has no obligation to provide comfort or purpose. The unknown might yield to some of my attempts to probe its secrets, but it need not do so. I can hope that a mere human mind such as my own might understand some day some of the answers which lie beyond my reach, but I can also accept the possibility that my mind might be too limited, and that I won't be able to transcend my personal limitations simply by imagining gods or gurus or psychic powers which will be transcendent for me.

In the end, I'd much rather have good questions than simple but unvalidated answers designed to make me feel good.

No, this approach to mystery will not do for those whose are actually seeking a father figure or a security blanket more than they seek truly good answers and good questions. I'd say, however, that my approach to mystery is as honest as I can make it, and there is no shortage of beauty and wonder.