50 Reasons People Give for Believing in a God (32 page)

Another round of singing takes my mind off being outed, but not
for long. A believer in the first row keeps glancing back at me during
the song. Does he suspect? Did he glance in my car on his way into
the church and see those telltale anthropology and philosophy books
on my car seat? Did he notice that I don't know the words to most of
these songs? Has he put two and two together? My heart pounds. I
know from past experiences that some believers are so disturbed by
being in the presence of a real live atheist that they will do anything to
avoid all contact. It's not a nice feeling. It's like becoming an instant
leper and nobody wants to heal you. Sometimes I think believers are
under the impression that skepticism and critical thinking are contagious. Then again, maybe they are. Deep down, I really don't care for
my own sake if they discover that I'm a fan of Charles Darwin and
PBS documentaries. What concerns me is that I'm on their turf and I
don't want to spoil the mood. Everyone is so happy and charged up. I
wouldn't want to ruin the party.

Finally, it's miracle time. I made it. The visiting preacher takes
over center stage. He has above-average charisma and a pretty good
voice but I've seen better. If faith healing were pro baseball, this guy
would be a minor league prospect hoping for a shot at the big leagues. But today, here in this small church, he is a heavy hitter and the fans
are on their feet and cheering.

After a short explanation about how God promised to heal the
sick, he calls for the sick to come forward.

"Who's hurting? Who's ailin'? Who needs a miracle here today?"

A few hands go up and the preacher calls them up to the stage. All
eyes follow the believers as they walk to the front of the church. The
visiting preacher selects one and sits him down in a chair. He tells the
audience that the man has back pain. There were no words exchanged
so it seems as if we are meant to believe that the preacher read the
man's mind or received the diagnosis directly from Jesus. Then he
grabs the sitting man's feet and straightens them out. The preacher
seems to line up the feet and then tells us that there is a problem. He
invites anyone interested to come closer and see for his or her self.
Without hesitation I move in fast for a good look. The preacher
explains that one of the man's legs is shorter than the other and that
this is the reason for his back pain. He's right, the feet don't line up. It
appears that one of the believer's legs is at least two inches shorter
than the other one. Or maybe it is just the way the preacher placed the
legs together.

The faith healer begins to pray loudly. He asks Jesus for a miracle
while violently shaking the man's legs. And then it happens. The miracle occurs. The preacher puts the man's feet back together and-"hal-
lelujah!"-they are perfectly aligned. A miracle came, right on cue. Or
maybe it is just the way the preacher placed the legs together. Audience members shriek and cry. They thank Jesus. Some speak in
tongues. Then the "healed" believer shoots up out of the chair and,
without any coaxing from the preacher, declares that his back pain is
gone. He grins and dances around to show everyone how great he
feels.

Sure it was dramatic and I have no reason to think the preacher or
the man with back pain were faking. However, I'm not convinced I
saw a miracle. Everyone else in the room seemed to accept it without
question. But why aren't they considering other possible explana tions? Did the preacher manipulate the man's legs by placing them at
an angle or pulling one leg straighter than the other? Did the man
know that it didn't work but decide to play along out of fear or politeness? Were the faith healer and the believer working together in order
to trick us? Was the believer's back pain improved by the power of
suggestion? I don't know what it was for sure, of course, but there was
no way I could just accept this as a miracle, not when so many simpler
explanations are available.

Religious people may not believe me but I would love to have seen
an undeniable miracle that day. I'm not opposed to supernatural healings from a god. I think most of the world's nonbelievers would welcome such an experience. I certainly haven't closed my mind to the
possibility of miracles. At this point, however, after so many centuries
of unproven claims, it seems unlikely that any form of magic or miracle will ever be revealed. One has to ask why the gods seem to always
direct their miracles toward people who lack skepticism and critical
thinking skills. Don't hardened skeptics and by-the-book scientists
have a right to enjoy the excitement and wonder of an occasional miracle as much as anyone else? In fact, one would think that they are the
people who would benefit most from them. Who needs a miracle more
than an atheist? Why do the gods seem to waste them on people who
already believe?

Although I was let down by the faith healer who stretched a man's
leg and called it a miracle, I am not suggesting that this one experience
means all claims of miracles are invalid. It is, of course, possible that
there have been real supernatural events caused by a god. But if miracles were anywhere near as common as believers have claimed for
centuries, there should be at least one that the world's scientific community would be able to confirm as undeniably the work of a god. But
there are none, not a single one.

Sometimes I wonder if people who say they believe in all these
miracles really do. I have seen faith healer Benny Hinn call down miracles from heaven to "cure" cancer and AIDS. But why didn't this
astonishing medical achievement lead the evening news that night? Why wasn't Hinn on the front page of the New York Times the next
day? Every branch of the United States government's leadership is
dominated by Christians. Why hasn't the government recruited Hinn
to empty hospital beds across America? The answer, of course, is that
most believers know that miracles are not real. If a holy man or
praying could cure AIDS and cancer, then we wouldn't see many
deaths from those diseases anymore. The only people who would be
in danger of them would be atheists. And there wouldn't be very many
atheists for very long because they would eventually notice that
believers never get sick and promptly get with the program.

Supernatural events caused by a god may or may not be real, but
they certainly have not been scientifically confirmed. It is therefore a
mistake for believers to cite miracles as good evidence for the existence of their gods. There is also the fact that miracles are not exclusive to one god or one belief system. Just about everybody has miracles so how believable can they be? For example, how can a Catholic
claim that a "weeping" statue of the Virgin Mary is evidence of their
god's existence when we also have milk-drinking statues of a Hindu
god to consider?

It had happened before, but when new reports came out about a
statue of Ganesha drinking milk in New Delhi, millions of Hindus
immediately were electrified with joy and excitement over the "miracle." Ganesha is the popular elephant-head god and a temple statue
of him reportedly was "drinking" milk from pans, bowls, and even
cupped hands. "People observed that Ganesha is drinking milk around
8 pm," a New Delhi temple priest told the Times of India, "after which
the word spread and thousands thronged the temple to try it out. Lord
Ganesha drank milk from all and sundry."

"It was actually happening," said Meenakshi Kumar, an excited
believer. "Ganesha drank milk from my hand!" (Times of India 2006).

It is important to note that miracles such as health cures, weeping
statues, and thirsty gods are not enough to convince most people that
a particular god is real. They tend to only reinforce belief in those who
already believe in the god credited for the miracle. Those who are out side of a particular miracle's belief system tend to favor explanations
such as fraud or mistaken interpretations of natural events. There
seems to be a necessary predisposition for belief in the god associated
with the reported miracle in order for most people to be impressed by
it. This is why we do not see millions of Muslims converting to
Catholicism because some Catholics have claimed to have been
healed in Lourdes, France. This is why we do not see Catholics
becoming Hindus when a statue of Ganesha is said to be drinking
milk. The fact that people in virtually every religion claim that miracles exist would seem to suggest that there is something less godly and
more human about miracles. It is doubtful, for example that Ganesha
would make a statue of the Virgin Mary cry and it is also seems very
unlikely that Jesus would drink milk through the statue of a Hindu
god. A much more reasonable explanation is that miracles of all religions are probably hoaxes, hallucinations, or simply natural events we
do not yet fully understand. This much is clear: claims of miracles are
not a good reason to believe in a god.

"Ganesha Drinking Milk Again." Times of India, August 21, 2006.
http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/articleshow/1910537.cros.

Gardner, Martin. New Age: Notes of a Fringe Watcher. Amherst, NY:
Prometheus Books, 1991. Great writing from a great skeptic.

Nickell, Joe. Looking for a Miracle: Weeping Icons, Relics, Stigmata, Visions
& Healing Cures. Amherst, NY: Prometheus Books, 1998.

Sagan, Carl. The Demon-Haunted World: Science as a Candle in the Dark.
New York: Random House, 1995. If you only read one book on science,
skepticism, and critical thinking, make it this one. My highest recommendation.

Vyse, Stuart A. Believing in Magic. New York: Oxford University Press,
1997.

Religious awe is the same organic thrill which we
feel in a forest at twilight,
or in a mountain gorge.

-William James

am in a small room in a shopping plaza in the Cayman Islands.
All around me are Jamaican immigrants who have crammed
themselves into this makeshift church to worship their god. The glare
of bright dresses and fancy hats fills my eyes while the song "Old
Rugged Cross" fills the room. About thirty of us sit in metal folding
chairs surrounded by bare walls and not much else. The room is
smaller than the closets in most churches but it does have one thing
going for it. There is an unpretentious outpouring of love all around
me, enough to make an atheist wonder if these believers might be on
to something.

These Jamaicans are among the hardest-working people in
Cayman. They do the tough blue-collar jobs that Caymanians prefer to
avoid. They are construction workers. They clean homes. They cook.
They care for other people's babies. Probably all of them work at least
six long hard days per week. I imagine that this time must be a precious escape from their burdens.

Some of them smile. Some cry while smiling. One old man's
scarred and calloused hand tightly clutches his Bible. He opens it and
I can see tattered pages soaked through with yellow highlighter ink. Some sentences are underlined in red. A large woman in front of me
suddenly begins to shake. Her hands shoot up as she appears to be suffering, or enjoying, involuntary spasms. "Let's welcome the Holy
Ghost!" someone shouts as the singing continues.

It's difficult to resist the rising flood of emotion and excitement.
Why fight it, I ask myself. The believers are swept away by the
moment and, before I know it, so am I. No, I don't see any gods or feel
that Holy Ghost they keep screaming for, but I am definitely feeling
the power of the people. The sentimental lyrics, delivered with rare
passion, seem to surge right through me. I notice that I have been
swaying with the music without even realizing it. I feel like I belong
here. As the song concludes, their joy, tears, and voices have touched
me deeper than I ever would have imagined possible. I look around the
room and know that I am surrounded by something beautiful. Yes,
they are worshipping a god who probably isn't real, but that's okay. It
doesn't diminish my respect for these people or for the beauty of a
moment like this.

Immediately upon entering the Church of the Holy Sepulcher in
Jerusalem I am drawn to the Stone of Unction. An excited believer
tells me that it was on this actual slab of rock that the body of Jesus
was cleaned and wrapped for entombment after he was taken down
from the cross. The people around me obviously believe the story.
They also seem to think that the stone possesses some sort of magical
residue of Jesus. No one seems to be concerned about whether or not
there is any evidence that a god was ever laid on this particular rock
or that it has magical powers now.

Just a few feet away from me, an old woman is "bathing" in the
Stone of Unction. With closed eyes, she gently wipes the surface of the
rock with her hands and then rubs her face, neck, and arms. She moves
slowly, with grace and purpose. It's as if she is performing an intricate
ballet, yet nothing about her movements seem artificial or rehearsed. I
interpret her actions as an attempt to capture and apply the stone's
magic to her body. Yes, her behavior seems odd, maybe even ridiculous, but I am absolutely captivated by it. I can't look away. Much to my surprise, I can't help but smile as I watch her attempt to sop up the
stone's powers. Something about the scene is beautiful.