During presidential elections, the vague term ‘values’ tends to get tossed
around a good deal. As an English major (we do have some practical skills!), I’ve
been taught to carefully consider what such nebulous terms mean to the individuals
who throw them around so casually, because it’s often a different definition for
everyone.
In the United States, faith is a good button to push in terms of values. 78.4%
of Americans identify as Christian, according to the Pew Survey. If you asked each
one to make a statement of faith, you’d get millions of different answers. But
when ‘Christian values’ get brought up, people assume that those values are their
own. It’s a very effective way to create an ‘us’—but you can’t have an ‘us’ without
a ‘them.’
I’m the ‘them.’ As one of the 1.6% of atheist Americans, I’m also part of the
least trusted minority in America—according to a recent study, most Americans
trust me about as much as a rapist. That’s right—I’m practically a public menace.
I was raised Lutheran, but more importantly I was raised to be tolerant, by
loving parents. They taught me about Jesus—and to care about other people, to
work for social justice, and to stand up against injustice. When I became an atheist I
maintained those values—because if there is no afterlife, how much more important
is it to help people have the best life possible on earth? How much more need we
fight injustice now?
It is not necessary to have faith in order to have values (especially because
everyone has values, they simply don’t agree on which ones are the most valuable),
nor does everyone who has faith have the values I consider important to
humankind. I’ve seen Christians display a shocking lack of empathy for those who
are different, a cruel, mocking superiority that has nothing to do with criticizing in
Christ’s love. I’ve seen atheists belittle believers. I’ve seen the emotional violence,
the paucity of fellow-feeling that we’re all capable of, particularly under the broad
black cloak of anonymity the Internet provides. But then—my parents are generous
with love and with their material possessions; I’m moved by the activism of atheists.
Faithful or irreverent, we are all capable of making either a positive or a negative
impact on our world—and we all have the freedom and the capacity to decide which
we’ll choose.
