Know reservations: Charles Assisi writes on dogma, religion and being an atheist

A recent visit to a cathedral has me thinking: Maybe we atheists can sometimes stray into the same absolutisms we criticise in religion, he says.

I have always prided myself on being a rigorous atheist. The kind of person who devours every Christopher Hitchens takedown of religion, and every Richard Dawkins theory.

‘I’d rather be an atheist who occasionally marvels at stained-glass windows and soaring choir music than someone locked in a fortress of pride masquerading as absolutes.’ (Adobe Stock)

I remember how smitten I was by Stephen Hawking’s A Brief History of Time. It felt like a cosmic key, explaining exactly how our universe popped into existence. There was no divine puppeteer pulling the strings. These ideas fit perfectly into my view of the world. Logical. Clinical.

And yet I recently found myself wondering: Are my convictions open-minded, or just extreme?

The existential speedbump occurred during a visit to my ancestral home in Fort Kochi, with my wife and daughters. One of the things they wanted to do was spend an evening at the gorgeous Santa Cruz Cathedral, famous for its painted ceilings, stained-glass windows and midnight choir at Christmas. I grudgingly obliged and walked in expecting to feel, well, nothing.

I remember thinking: “I might as well spend the evening learning how to knit my own socks. Utterly pointless.”

Then I stepped inside, and something about the soaring arches and hushed pews got my attention. The choir that started to sing a few hymns before the formal service started.

The echo in that grand space was breath-taking. I couldn’t understand the lyrics, because they were all in Latin. But the sound, coupled with the warm glow of candles, made the basilica feel oddly sacred.

I say “oddly,” because in my head, I was still wearing my atheist badge. Yet here I was, caught in a moment I could only describe as… otherworldly.

I tried to remind myself that beauty is not truth. Just because something evokes awe doesn’t make it any more valid.

Then a voice in my head said, “Aren’t you being a bit dogmatic yourself?” That’s when it struck me: maybe we atheists can sometimes stray into the same absolutisms we criticise in religion. Maybe we too are guilty of developing an unwavering conviction that our truth is the only truth.

I’ve laughed at the idea of a God who zapped the universe into being. But if I’m being honest, I also ought to laugh at Hawking’s proposition that a random quantum fluctuation triggered it all.

Let’s face it: The idea that the universe “came from nothing” is as mind-boggling as the idea that it was made by a bearded anthropomorphic figure over a brief number of days.

I have never wanted to be called an extremist. But if an extremist is someone who can’t entertain a shred of doubt about their worldview, then I might have been inching dangerously close.

Hitchens famously wrote, in God is not Great, “What can be asserted without evidence can also be dismissed without evidence.” I’ve always championed that line. But standing in the basilica, I saw evidence of something else — human devotion, artistry, community — that was real to the people around me.

Have I suddenly converted? I have not. I am still uncomfortable with dogma in any form. I am uncomfortable with the idea that any text can be beyond question.

But I am also now uncomfortable with my own potential for dogma. Maybe it’s not enough to say “I don’t buy the God theory” and leave it at that. Maybe I need to admit that there are concepts — whether cosmic, philosophical or spiritual — that I don’t fully understand.

And that’s okay. Scientific minds, after all, are built on curiosity and the willingness to be proven wrong.

Dawkins himself wrote, “By all means let’s be open-minded, but not so open-minded that our brains drop out.”

Being open-mind, to me, now means making room for the possibility that the universe may be more layered than I can comprehend.

I remain an atheist, but ever since I stepped out of the basilica, I am a humbled one.

I don’t have all the answers. I may as well admit it.

I’d rather be an atheist who occasionally marvels at stained-glass windows and haunting choirs than someone locked in a fortress of pride masquerading as absolutes.

Maybe all our theories about life and creation are off the mark. I am finally okay not knowing for sure.

(Charles Assisi is co-founder of Founding Fuel. He can be reached on assisi@foundingfuel.com)