Why I Don’t Evangelise My Atheism

I’ve got this song. I think it’s the best thing I’ve ever written. Yeah, yeah, I know I always say that. But this time it’s true. It’s simple, easy to remember, easy to play. Narratively, it works and vocally it sits right bang in the middle of the old prima voce. The only problem is: I can’t bring myself to perform it in public.

It’s the subject, you see. Atheism. I’m an atheist. I wasn’t always. I used to be some sort of semi-practicing quasi-Christian. You know the sort: only goes to church for weddings and funerals, mumbles the odd prayer and offers a non-comital “Amen” on the increasingly rare occasions when someone says grace.

All perfectly harmless stuff. The sort of wishy-washy background noise that makes the whole business of getting through your day that little bit easier. I had settled comfortably into it for years. A nice gentle plod. Never really doubting, but never really questioning either. And then I read a book…

It doesn’t particularly matter which one. There are lots to choose from. I found one and gave it a whirl out of curiosity – fairly certain it would turn out to be a lot of nonsense. But then I started to think about it. And then I started to read a bit more. And then, the more I read, the more I reached my (perhaps inevitable conclusion) that there simply is no God.

A bit like an ex-smoker (I’m one of those, too) I couldn’t have been more pleased with myself. Here was I, a normal fella of normal intelligence, who had made a great discovery. One that I simply must tell the world about. “I think there is no God!” But who would I tell this great truth to? And why would I want to?

It's not like they’d be getting anything for their trouble. Not like if I had found a way to save on heating bills or stumbled across a great little restaurant. Atheism’s not really like that. You don’t get a lot for your money. Not really. Accept the feeling of being splendidly clever.

I have no regrets. I wouldn’t go back if I could. I’m sure of that. I prefer things the way they are now. Not having to wave religion past the normal rules of critical thinking is, to an extent, its own reward. But here’s the important thing: This was my decision. No one else’s. I chose to think about it. These were my questions, for which I sought my answers. Which I’m content with. But that doesn’t mean to say this would be right for other people.

And so back to that song of mine. A clever little ditty that lays it all to rest – once and for all (I think). The thing is, I’m a musician. I know that might not sound like a conflict of interests. But to me, it is. You see, I’ve long since believed that entertaining people is only a musician’s secondary role. Our primary role, as far as I see it, is to bring people together. To offer a focus on which people, of various life experiences, can share a moment of…well, togetherness. And the trouble with that song is that it would be divisive.

And, anyway, who’s to say I’m right? I’m right for me, sure. But does that mean I’m right for the old lady who was shuffling past as I did my busking set the other day? I don’t know who she was. What she’s been through, or what she believes in. I can only speculate, of course, but I would be surprised if the joy in her life hasn’t been tempered by at least some sadness.

Let’s assume that her life experiences have not been identical to mine. That being so, why would I expect her beliefs to be the same? No, more than this: what right could I possibly have for assuming my beliefs are more valid than hers? And, as such, why would I presume any right to undermine those beliefs? (The one exception being if they posed a danger to others, which I’m sure they don’t.)

She seemed perfectly harmless to me. Sweet even. The sort of nice old lady who goes around doing nice things and thinking nice thoughts. Among those thoughts, there may well be some notion of a hereafter. This may be very comforting as she moves towards the latter stages of her life. Why would I want to take that away?

How would convincing someone that there is no God help them? That would have to be the test I would use before evangelising my own faith. (Atheism is a faith, as I can’t prove its truth for certain.)

So, playing that song would be making an argument I wouldn’t necessarily want to win. This is why I’ll stick to my flowery little love songs and keep the real stuff to myself. Other people’s beliefs just aren’t my call to make.