At the heart of Catholicism lies a rhetoric of and celebration of suffering. The Catholic Church asserts that suffering (of all sorts) is inherently good. This assertion, I’d argue, lies at the core of all of the emotional, physical, economic, and socio-cultural damage that the leadership and Catholic Church has inflicted on countless individuals and groups throughout history (childhood religious indoctrination being just one example). The argument plays out something like this:

1) God chose to take on the human form of Jesus,

2) Jesus was aware that suffering, pain, and crucifixion were his destiny,

3) Jesus did not complain about the suffering he endured; in fact, he welcomed it, as he knew his death would atone for the “original sin” that Adam brought about in the Garden of Eden and would “save” the souls of all sinners from an eternity spent in Hell, as long as the sinners accepted the divinity of Jesus. As the official Catechism of the Catholic Church says (bracketed words are mine):

“For as by one man’s [Adam's] disobedience many were made sinners, so by one man’s [Jesus's] obedience many will be made righteous.” By his obedience unto death, Jesus accomplished the substitution of the suffering Servant, who “makes himself an offering for sin”, when “he bore the sin of many”, and who “shall make many to be accounted righteous”, for “he shall bear their iniquities”. Jesus atoned for our faults and made satisfaction for our sins to the Father.

4) As Catholics, we (I use “we” here because I was a Catholic until I was 16 year old) are forever indebted to Jesus and should always do our best to emulate him. This includes, but is not limited to, never complaining about suffering and even taking pleasure in it.

5) And here’s where this argument gets truly dangerous: because we, as Catholics, are called to tolerate and even delight in our suffering, we are thus justified in expecting, or even demanding, that others (including children who have no choice in the matter) do the same, because it is in their best interest. Think of Mother Teresa’s overt fetishization of suffering, or of her horrifying claim that

“There is something beautiful in seeing the poor accept their lot, to suffer it like Christ’s Passion. The world gains much from their suffering.”

(Source)

On a more personal level, this also translates into the Catholic practice of doing penance for our perceived faults, guilt, and sins. This practice is, of course, learnt in childhood, and, in many instances, unquestioningly passed down to future generations. But I’ve previously written at length about that topic, and want to stay focused here on the Catholic rhetoric of suffering, which is the root cause of and justification of both childhood indoctrination, and of so much of the extensive damage that the Catholic Church has inflicted, and continues to inflict, upon the world.

Suffering isn’t something to be celebrated, cherished, worn as a badge of honor, or inflicted upon others. Understanding and acknowledging the Church’s rhetoric of suffering and openly discussing its perniciousness is one way we can combat the pervasive stigma that prevents much-needed discussions of the negative after-effects of Catholic childhood religious indoctrination.

A brief excerpt:

However, although idealism is a powerful intrinsic motivator for educators and skeptical activists alike, it is not enough. If we wish to be successful in our attempts to inform, educate, persuade, and promote critical thinking and evidence-based decision making (inside or outside of the classroom) we first need to accept that our passionate idealism is only a start. Idealism is a valuable, admirable, and useful personality trait, one that indicates a principled refusal to succumb to the apathy and cynicism that pervades much of contemporary society. That being said, though, we must also acknowledge that while our idealism motivates us to inform, enlighten, and promote evidence-based decision making (in the classroom or otherwise), in order to turn motivation into action, we must be willing to be both idealists and pragmatists. Idealism alone doesn’t accomplish anything. Although this may not be something we often consider when analyzing our own contributions to skeptical activism, the professional educators and/or skeptical activists who we admire and respect the most are almost certainly the ones who acknowledge (through their words and/or their actions) that pragmatism, discipline, and hard work are just as important as idealism.

The rest of the post is available here.

Thanks for reading!

If pressed to answer questions like “What is love? What is lust? Is there a precise moment when they independently intertwine, or does one necessarily lead to the other?” I wouldn’t know what to say. I wouldn’t be able to fully articulate my answers to such questions. Words wouldn’t be and could never be enough.

So, instead of attempting to answer these questions, I’d just play this video for the inquisitor. I’d hope that they would understand. I’d want them to see what I do: that the answers to each of these questions can be found in these 3 minutes and 15 seconds of cinematic perfection from Jean-Luc Godard‘s Alphaville, a French dystopian science fiction film.

This is love. This is desire. This is the beautiful and terrifying moment when the two intertwine. This says it all in a way that words alone never could.

And this resonates with me right now, more than I can say, more than anyone knows, more than it ever has before:

Your voice, your eyes, your hands, your lips… Our silences, our words… Light that goes, light that returns. A single smile between us. In quest of knowledge, I watched night create day while we seemed unchanged. O beloved all, beloved of one alone, your mouth silently promised to be happy. Away, away says hate; Closer, closer says love. A caress leads us from our infancy. Increasingly I see the human form as a lovers’ dialogue. The heart has but one mouth. Everything by chance. All words without thought. Sentiments adrift. Men roam the city. A glance, a word. Because I love you, everything moves. We must advance to live. Aim straight ahead towards those you love. I went toward you, endlessly toward the light. If you smile, it enfolds me all the better. The rays of your arms pierce the mist.

♥

In this clip, my lovely co-panelists (and friends) Eve and Bob and I give postmodernist nonsense a well-deserved smackdown and manage to be pretty damn hilarious in the process. Think of us as the brainy goofy lovechildren of a one night-stand that the Sokal Affair/Fashionable Nonsense once had with The Three Stooges (Or something. Just roll with me here).

And I haven’t even mentioned the best part yet. Are you ready? Okay, here goes: the best part is the moment when Eve and I collectively coined the term ”Derrida Zombies”, which became the hilarious (and apt) coup de grâce of our collective smackdown of postmodernist bollocks.

Alas, because it’s just a short clip from a much longer video, I can’t embed it, but it’s available here. Go! Watch! Giggle away! It’s lots of fun, I promise. (And try not to be put off by the mildly disturbing Tom Waits-esque voice I had that morning (I love Tom Waits, but I don’t want to sound like the chap.) I had a nasty sore throat, and that caused my voice to be a little less girly than usual.)

And, lastly, here’s a screenshot from the video. Funtimes! :)

More soon! Thanks for reading.

My argument is this: Francis’s opinions on and actions taken against contraceptive use and access to abortion cancel out his proclaimed desire to remedy poverty and economic inequality. One of the simplest and most efficient ways to help the economic status of women (and, by extension, their families) is by providing access to effective methods of contraception (as the linked study illustrates, women who live in places where extreme poverty coexists with hardline Catholicism are the least likely to have access to effective means of contraception. And here’s the clincher: the study’s authors found that poor women in Latin America (Pope Francis’s domain) suffer the most from this lack of access).

So, no, I’m not buying the argument that “Pope Francis cares for the poor” or “Pope Francis has a deep concern for social justice issues and human rights”. Far from it. Pope Francis is, I’d argue, indirectly (and perhaps even directly, in some cases) responsible for the economic inequality, poverty, and social injustice he so disingenuously claims to oppose. His culpability in these matters must not be swept under the rug. Please expose it and shine a light on it wherever and however you can.

I had a wonderful time and I’m very grateful to my Skeptic Superhero friends for inviting me to take part. I’ll embed the recording below. It can also be accessed here and here, and the show notes are available here.

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The Virtual Skeptics airs live each Wednesday night at 8 p.m. EST (1 a.m. GMT), and the recordings are posted shortly after. Both the live show and the recordings are available here and here. You can also find The Virtual Skeptics on Facebook, Twitter, and Google+.

Enjoy the show! (^‿^)

First up is Washington, D.C., where I visited in February 2012. The rest of my photos from the trip can be found on Flickr.

Most of these photos were taken at two places that absolutely stole my heart ♥: the Library of Congress and the National Gallery of Art. Also, along with the photos, I’ve included links to interesting/useful/educational information, so be sure to click on them if you’re interested.

(& One last thing before the photos: sadly, I didn’t get to see my Imaginary Boyfriend Joe Biden while in D.C. Darn! ;) I still associate that trip with him, though: last month, I dreamt that Biden bought me Christian Louboutin stilettos & gelato & wandered around the Library of Congress with me. I have great dreams sometimes (^‿^))

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The National Gallery of Art Sculpture Garden Ice Rink with the National Archives Building in the background:

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The Capitol building on a cold D.C. morning:

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The beautiful Supreme Court Building:

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Entrance to the Library of Congress ♥:

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The Library of Congress, taken on a lovely almost-spring morning:

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The wonderful Library of Congress:

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A beautiful statue in the Great Hall of the Library of Congress:

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Part of the lovely ceiling of the Great Hall of the Library of Congress:

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One of the wonderful quotes on the walls of the Library of Congress:

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The entrance to the “Creating the United States” exhibit at the Library of Congress:

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Columns & lovely ceiling art at the Library of Congress:

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A Picasso self-portrait outside the entrance to the West Building of the National Gallery of Art:

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Peter Paul Rubens‘s “Daniel in the Lions’ Den” at the National Gallery of Art:

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Andy Goldsworthy‘s “Roof” outside of the East Building of the National Gallery of Art:

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Pablo Picasso‘s “Harlequin Musician” at the National Gallery of Art:

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Giorgio de Chirico‘s “Conversation among the Ruins” at the National Gallery of Art:

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An anonymous artist’s (a follower of Fra Filipp Lippi and Pesellino) “Madonna and Child” at the National Gallery of Art:

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Leo Villareal‘s “Multiverse” light sculpture/moving walkway/tunnel between the East Building and the West Building of the National Gallery of Art:

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More soon!

I would not for my life destroy one star of human hope, but I want it so that when a poor woman rocks the cradle and sings a lullaby to the dimpled darling, she will not be compelled to believe that ninety-nine chances in a hundred she is raising kindling wood for hell.

Robert Ingersoll

No one, let alone a small child, is “kindling wood for hell”, yet it is that message that is at the core of Catholic childhood indoctrination.

I’m in complete agreement with the sentiments and assertions expressed in this recent article by Richard Dawkins. I think that teaching small children to believe in a literal Hell and to believe that there’s a very real possibility that they will spend an eternity in this literal Hell is child abuse (relatedly, teaching small children that they are worthless and that their guilt, fear, and anxiety are valuable blessings from God is also child abuse). The Catholic Church hierarchy loathes and abuses children.

To be clear: I certainly do not believe that the vast majority of those who raise their children in the Catholic faith are child abusers. For the most part, they’re just continuing the cycle. Their parents permitted the Church to indoctrinate them, and now they are doing the same to their own children. This mindless continuation of the vicious cycle of indoctrination may never stop, but we can at least try to raise awareness of the fact that the core tenets of Catholic childhood indoctrination are indeed abusive to children.

I rarely write about this topic anymore. Doing so requires me to write in a way that makes me rather uncomfortable. I don’t  like writing about my personal life or personal experiences (I’m a very private person). I’d much rather create a rhetorically-effective, well-reasoned, and thoroughly-supported analysis/argument than discuss my personal experience with any given issue.

But, when it comes to this topic, personal stories can be extremely powerful. I learned this two years ago, when I first wrote and published the essay that I’m reproducing here. Of everything that I’ve written on Catholicism (and I’ve written quite a lot), it has received by far the most attention and responses, both positive and negative. For me, the most important and moving responses came from people who could relate to my experiences and who were relieved to know that they are not alone. That meant the world to me. However, a little over a year ago, I started to feel uncomfortable having something so personal posted online, so I took it down. This week, though, I finally decided to repost it, and I’ll also reproduce it below. I’m still a bit squeamish about it, but, if it helps you to feel less alone, or if it helps you to understand why/how the core tenets of Catholic childhood indoctrination are abusive and often cause life-long emotional damage, then reposting it is absolutely the right thing to do.

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A dirty little girl, her head hanging in shame

(This essay was originally published on September 19, 2010. It was reprinted at RichardDawkins.net and excerpted at The Daily Dish)

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I cannot remember a time before I knew I was a Catholic. I knew it just as clearly as I knew that I was a girl, or that I had brown eyes. These traits were inherited, fixed, unchangeable. It took me a few years to understand that I hadn’t actually been born Catholic, and many more years after that to realize that Catholicism was optional.

Why did it take me until I was sixteen years old to figure out something so obvious? Simple: Catholic childhood religious indoctrination is chillingly effective. Its most powerful weapons are guilt and the fear of a literal hell. When a child is taught that the simple act of doubting or questioning any of the Church’s teachings is a sin, and that even the tiniest of sins can result in an eternity spent in a literal hell, they quickly learn to suppress those doubts and to feel intense shame, guilt, and fear when they fail to do so.

Think for a second about how cruel that is. To ensure that the Catholic mind virus is passed down through the generations, the Church is willing to crush children’s curiosity and to stifle or completely destroy their ability to think critically.

Then there is the guilt. According to Catholic teaching, humans are born sinners and cannot help but continue to sin throughout their lives. The only way for a Catholic to atone for these sins is to confess them to a priest, do the required penance, and be absolved. As a child, I obsessively recorded in a little notebook anything that I had said or done that could possibly be considered sinful. Then, when the time came for confession, I would recite this list to the priest, my head hanging in shame, my cheeks burning. I’d do my penance and be absolved. For a fleeting, blissful moment, I would feel light and pure and holy. But soon I would sin again, the guilt would return, the little notebook would be filled up with a record of my indiscretions, and I would return to the confessional and repeat the process over and over again.

Although I left Catholicism fifteen years ago, on occasion I still catch myself wondering what I need to do in order to rid myself of the guilt, shame, and feeling of dirtiness that, in one form or another, is almost always my companion. I sometimes find myself feeling frustrated: why, I wonder, can’t someone just tell me what penance to do? I obviously no longer think in terms of sin or feel the need to go to the confessional, but the desire for absolution remains, like an itch that cannot be scratched.

Who can deny that this is a form of child abuse? The mere act of writing this is making my hands shake and my stomach churn with anxiety. Fifteen years ago, I made the choice to leave Catholicism, something that, among the family and community I grew up in, just isn’t done. This choice was, without a doubt, the best and most liberating choice that I have ever made. However, I do not have a choice when it comes to the ever-present guilt, shame, and anxiety that resulted from my childhood religious indoctrination, and which, to varying degrees of intensity, will always be with me.

The Catholic Church loathes children. Loathes them. To the Church, children are Catholics first and humans second, and the lifelong trauma caused by childhood indoctrination is mere collateral damage in the Church’s battle against the outside world. As is so often the case, the Church unashamedly places their own interests above all other concerns, including the welfare (physical, emotional, and mental) of children. And an organization that despises and preys upon its weakest and most vulnerable members (who haven’t even chosen to be members) is undoubtably a force of great evil in the world.

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Thank you so much for reading. ♡

My friends, the wonderful skeptic superheroes behind the weekly web series The Virtual Skeptics, very kindly invited a few “special guests” (myself included) to be on tonight’s “Halloween Ex-ScArE-VeGaNzA!!!!!!” episode. It was lots of fun & we had a fantastic time. I’ll embed the recording below (and here’s a direct link, if the embedded video doesn’t work for some reason).

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The Virtual Skeptics airs live each Wednesday night at 8 p.m. EST (midnight GMT), and the recordings are posted shortly after. Both the live show and the recordings are available here and here. You can also find The Virtual Skeptics on Facebook and Twitter.

Enjoy the episode! (^‿^)

TAM 2012 “Skepticism and the Humanities” panel. (Photo by Bruce Press. Click photo to see original.)

Yay!  The JREF has posted its video of the TAM 2012 “Skepticism and the Humanities” panel.  You may recognize that girl in the middle (^‿^):

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Below, I’ll paste a comment that I originally intended for YouTube. I wrote it out in a text editor, and when I went back to the video’s comments section to post it, I realized that YouTube comments are limited to 500 characters. So, instead of finding a way to cut out 2,500 characters, I’ll post it here instead. Just pretend that you’re reading it in the comments section on YouTube, okay? ;) It will make more sense that way. Thanks!:

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Thanks so much for posting this! I really enjoyed being on the panel (I’m the girl in the middle) & am so grateful for the opportunity.

I do think that there should have been two separate panels, though. In the months leading up to this, I’d been (based on conversations with a few of the others) envisioning and preparing for a discussion of how the skills that we (active skeptics who are also teachers/scholars of various humanities disciplines (rhetoric/composition, in my case)) study and/or teach (i.e. the importance of thinking critically, of research, of supporting our assertions with legitimate (i.e. not anecdotal or personal) evidence from quality sources, of expressing ourselves in the clearest possible manner, of analyzing and critiquing all assertions, including our own, of practicing the principle of charity, etc.) can and should become a part of every skeptical activist’s “skeptic’s toolkit” (for lack of a better phrase). That kind of discussion would have been much more relevant to TAM, as it would have stayed focused on scientific skepticism/skeptical inquiry, skepticism as a methodology, and skills-based skepticism. The humanities fall within the scope of scientific skepticism and are relevant to the methodology of skepticism *only* when the humanities can provide pragmatic tools, thought processes, and skills that all skeptics can put to use. That’s the only justification for including the humanities in a conference like TAM, and I think that a humanities-only panel would have been able to have the kind of productive, pragmatic, and interesting discussion that I outlined above.

Honestly, when I found out that it was going to be an arts *and* humanities panel (this was a few months after initial planning and discussion began), I was a bit frustrated/disappointed, as I knew that the type of panel I’d been envisioning and preparing for wasn’t going to be happening, and I had no clue as to how we were going to include two very different fields/subjects in one discussion, let alone keep that discussion relevant to skeptical activism and within the scope of scientific skepticism/skeptical inquiry. The arts are relevant to skepticism in their own way, and a separate panel on that topic would have been interesting, I’m sure. But meshing the arts and the humanities together like this just didn’t work all that well. I still think that the panel was good, and that some valuable points were made and that some important discussion occurred, but I kept wanting to return the focus to the pragmatic skills and topics that I mentioned above, and that didn’t happen nearly enough, unfortunately. Nevertheless, I am *so* grateful to have had the opportunity to take part in a panel, I loved being a part of TAM (it was seriously amazing and wonderful and so lovely ♥), and would love to be involved again next year. And, again, thanks so much to the JREF for filming and posting these talks and panels. They’re a great resource for both educators and for the skeptical community as a whole.

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More soon! Thanks for reading.