‘I’m an atheist. I don’t believe in God, or an after-life,’ said the man in the seat next to me. ‘Do you?’ Severe turbulence had hit our plane from Barbados to Gatwick. Passengers gasped audibly as the plane plunged. My stomach turned, like being on a big dipper.
‘No, I don’t believe in God or an after-life either,’ I replied.
He paused, so I continued. This should spark thought, as usual. ‘I don’t believe, I know.’
‘How can you know something science hasn’t proved? Most scientists don’t believe in God.’
‘Maybe most scientists need logical evidence, whereas other scientists’ believe because of personal experiences.’ He doesn’t understand ‘personal experience’ of God or an after-life.
‘I don’t accept that. How can you experience something that doesn’t exist?’
‘That’s the whole point. Unless someone believes because their family or culture believes, you can’t believe until you have a mystical experience. You haven’t had a mystical experience, so you don’t believe. That’s fine.’
He thought for a while, then asked, ‘So why do you believe?’
‘Because I’m a priest,’ I replied. Oops, that shocked him. ‘And because I’ve had so many mystical experiences I have no choice but to believe, or know.’
‘I try to be good,’ he replied, ‘and I’m an atheist. Why aren’t all priests good like me?’ The plane swung from side to side then dipped, twice. More loud gasps from passengers...
‘No, I don’t believe in God or an after-life either,’ I replied.
He paused, so I continued. This should spark thought, as usual. ‘I don’t believe, I know.’
‘How can you know something science hasn’t proved? Most scientists don’t believe in God.’
‘Maybe most scientists need logical evidence, whereas other scientists’ believe because of personal experiences.’ He doesn’t understand ‘personal experience’ of God or an after-life.
‘I don’t accept that. How can you experience something that doesn’t exist?’
‘That’s the whole point. Unless someone believes because their family or culture believes, you can’t believe until you have a mystical experience. You haven’t had a mystical experience, so you don’t believe. That’s fine.’
He thought for a while, then asked, ‘So why do you believe?’
‘Because I’m a priest,’ I replied. Oops, that shocked him. ‘And because I’ve had so many mystical experiences I have no choice but to believe, or know.’
‘I try to be good,’ he replied, ‘and I’m an atheist. Why aren’t all priests good like me?’ The plane swung from side to side then dipped, twice. More loud gasps from passengers...
‘That’s the trouble with the world,' I said. 'People have faults. Chemicals misfire in our brains, hormones create havoc especially with some ladies monthly, and our bodies inherit physical, emotional, and mental negativities from the family line. Nobody is perfect.’
‘Yes, but priests should be perfect.’ Another plunge, more gasps.
‘Even if they were perfect chemicals, hormones and genetics can still kick in suddenly and create havoc in even the most perfect person in the world.’
‘Oh ,’ he said. ‘So priests may do or say wrong things sometimes because their body makes them, just like anyone else?’
‘Exactly. There are only two differences with priests. First priests need to heal themselves fast if hormones or genetics or whatever cause them to step out of line. They must try to heal sudden anger, hate, envy or whatever.’
‘And they need to apologise fast as well,’ he said. ‘It’s no good healing themselves of their anger if they’ve upset lots of people. Others may need healing because of the priest’s anger!’
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘That’s the second difference between priests and the average person. Priests should have humility to apologise when they hurt someone.’ Buffeting of the plane lessened.
‘I don’t hear many priests apologising.’
I laughed. ‘Agreed. But they should.’
‘I prefer to be an atheist, and just be as good and kind and peaceful as possible.’ The turbulence stopped. The plane flew serenely to Gatwick.
‘That’s perfect,’ I said. ‘There are many paths to God. One path to God is to be a good atheist.’ That’s stumped him.
The man thought deeply. Not long after, he dozed to sleep with a smile on his face.
‘Yes, but priests should be perfect.’ Another plunge, more gasps.
‘Even if they were perfect chemicals, hormones and genetics can still kick in suddenly and create havoc in even the most perfect person in the world.’
‘Oh ,’ he said. ‘So priests may do or say wrong things sometimes because their body makes them, just like anyone else?’
‘Exactly. There are only two differences with priests. First priests need to heal themselves fast if hormones or genetics or whatever cause them to step out of line. They must try to heal sudden anger, hate, envy or whatever.’
‘And they need to apologise fast as well,’ he said. ‘It’s no good healing themselves of their anger if they’ve upset lots of people. Others may need healing because of the priest’s anger!’
‘Absolutely,’ I said. ‘That’s the second difference between priests and the average person. Priests should have humility to apologise when they hurt someone.’ Buffeting of the plane lessened.
‘I don’t hear many priests apologising.’
I laughed. ‘Agreed. But they should.’
‘I prefer to be an atheist, and just be as good and kind and peaceful as possible.’ The turbulence stopped. The plane flew serenely to Gatwick.
‘That’s perfect,’ I said. ‘There are many paths to God. One path to God is to be a good atheist.’ That’s stumped him.
The man thought deeply. Not long after, he dozed to sleep with a smile on his face.
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