Another Secret

(Blame it on Fran Lebowitz and Christopher Hitchens – May God Bless Them)

 

Absolute honesty? No secrets? Is that any way to live? Or rather, is there any other way to live? As in all things I can only speak for a party of three – moi, myself and I. And, as usual, I am not sure of the answer. Secrets can easily become a poison in my brain; seeping into my heart to destroy all hope of happiness. Does that mean I would never keep any secrets? Never is a pretty big word. I hope that I would have avoided telling the Nazis that Anne Frank was hiding upstairs in her house. But most secrets in my life are not of the Anne Frank variety. They are about things that would embarrass me or others. While embarrassment can sometimes feel like death, its consequences are far less permanent and it's a lot less expensive since it requires no priest or ceremony.

Should I reveal secrets about the details of my personal life as I often do on this blog? Obviously, I have decided to do so. My justification is survival. I try to avoid hurting people, but not to the extent that I present a false picture of my thoughts and actions. It is very important that I try to live a life as free from illusions as possible. Illusions and hallucinations have kept me locked up in mental institutions – a reluctant denizen in the land of "mental illness". Every recovery from a mental crisis has been due to a willingness to be completely honest, to let go of all my delusions and face the realities of my life. Focusing on concrete thinking and actions has been vital to recovery, and maintaining the little "sanity" I have found.

Unfortunately, I often hurt others when I try to be honest about myself. I regret this, but I am not sure what to do about it. I try to balance my need to be honest with the practice of kindness and consideration of other's feelings. Often I fail, and reveal or say things that hurt others. I don't like hurting other people, but to be frank and very politically incorrect, I like hurting myself even less. I selfishly want to live and to be free of mental institutions – both states of being require me to have as few secrets as possible, especially secrets that include lying to myself about who I am and what I believe. In the past, I told people that I believed in the divinity of Jesus Christ and the Holy Trinity. I worked very hard to act as if I believed the party line in the hope that one day I would be graced with true belief. It didn't take.

Now, at this late stage of life, I am tired of the charade. I didn't truly believe that Mary gave virgin birth, that Jesus arose from the dead or that all of us would be able to sing in heaven. I only believed this a tiny bit as a child, about the same way I believed in the tooth fairy. I knew the tooth fairy probably wasn't real, but if somebody was going to give me a quarter, I was all for it. I knew that Jesus probably wasn't real, but if I got lots of presents on his birthday, who was I to quibble? No, I never fully believed the Jesus story then and I don't have a shred of belief in it now. I have been and remain agnostic, or perhaps even atheistic on the matter. I choose to say agnostic most of the time because that tends to upset people less. If I really want to be safe, I just call myself a non-believer. People will hang an atheist given half a chance. A non-believer generally can skate by with a good talking to.

Before I continue, let me say I am not one of those dogmatic atheists or agnostics. To me the difference between atheist and agnostic is not worth quibbling over. In my opinion atheists and agnostics arguing over who has the right kind of disbelief is like Catholics arguing with Lutherans about transubstantiation or some such. The participants may find it entertaining but the rest of us will be better served if we just go have a snack, take a nap and come back when they are finished.

I was very sheltered as a child. I didn't know what an agnostic was. I needed to fit in. I lacked the strength and courage to say what I truly believed. I wish now that I had said, "I don't know" when someone asked me if I believed in the Bible and Jesus. That would have been honest. That would have been real. But it wouldn't have been prudent. Many people would have hated and judged me for expressing my uncertainty. So, I took a deep breath and shouted along with the rest that I did believe; that I truly, truly, truly did believe. In fact, I often thought of Jesus as the loser of the Christmas duo – Santa got milk and cookies, Jesus got whips and nails. As a reward for belief, give me milk and cookies any day.

I worked very hard at being a "model" believer. I smiled at church. I spoke up frequently; clarifying other's points of confusion about the Bible's meaning; steering them on the correct path to salvation. Being a natural born liar, it was easy for me to make up meanings and rationalizations on the spur of the moment. When others nodded at the wisdom of my fabrications I came to believe them myself. I slept well. I was confident in my ability to answer any and all questions. I knew that when challenged by a "heathen" I could easily grab a Bible verse, and with a little elaboration, fit it to the question at hand. Once, I was even asked to deliver a sermon. But it was no use. In my heart I knew my "answers" came from inside the brain of Mr. Dale Hankins, no matter how often others told me I was inspired, or that the Holy Spirit was speaking through me.

Over the years, the internal conflict from this deception became increasingly excruciating. It is very hard to live as if you believe something when in your heart you know you're lying, even if you truly love your work. I considered going into the ministry and was telling others of the joys of salvation, but inside things were unraveling as I had more and more questions. As instructed I went to the church elders.

I asked, "Why do we serve grape juice at communion rather than wine? Why don't we follow Jesus' example from the Last Supper?"

The answer came. "Because we don't want to tempt alcoholics; Jesus hates alcohol."

I continued, "But it doesn't say that anywhere in the Bible does it?"

The answer, "Paul tells us not drink much wine."

"But much wine isn't no wine," I said.

They answered, "Well, they had to drink wine; the water is bad over there."

Like a deer hound on the scent I asked, "But many cities in Israel were situated near artesian wells. Besides, if Jesus didn't want people to drink wine he would have just purified the water at the wedding rather than turn it into wine."

"Well young man. Clearly you are having a crisis of faith. Please pray on this. Continuing to question only hurts your faith and the faith of those around you. You don't want to hurt others do you?"

Dejected, I took my questions as evidence of my hatred of Jesus, or of the Devil's influence on my life. I have no direct proof, but I am relatively certain that deluding myself and others about my true thoughts was and remains, the chief conflict at the root of my "mental illness" - a secret lie that can cause me to mistrust everything I say and do. Well, it could have had something to do with all the drugs I did back in the day as well, but let's not quibble.

I blame no one. I am able to make an ass of myself without any assistance. I've had years of practice. All of us face challenges in life. All of us make choices. All of us face consequences. Sometimes the choices we make as children have disastrous consequences later in life. When that happens, we have yet another choice – change, adapt and move on, or build ourselves a little cage of prejudice and dogma. We must chose a life of growth or become rigid and inflexible. I cannot say for others, but rigidity and I are not happy campers. You might even say that I am inflexible about my desire to remain open rather than rigid in my beliefs.

Does this mean that I might come to believe in something like the divinity of Jesus? Yes. I suppose that if he were to appear before me in the flesh, if I were granted Thomas' experience, I might reconsider. However, barring that eventuality, I believe that a divine Jesus is just as likely as a divine Gaia. I have equal amounts of concrete evidence for the divinity of Jesus and Gaia, which is to say none, or at least none that I have been able to decipher. Gaia at least, did me the honor of sending an apparition of herself to me while I was withdrawing from psychotropic medications in a Japanese hotel room. Rather than face an extended period in a mental institution, I declined Gaia's kind offer of a commission as the world's newest savior and ascension to the ranks of godhead. Thus far, the triune Christian God of Jesus, Yahweh, and the Holy Ghost, has left me with a somewhat darker alternative – accept their existence on blind faith or burn in hell.

Some will say that I am just being stubborn, that I am refusing to believe even though there is ample evidence for belief contained in the natural world. "Look at how wonderfully it is designed," some will say. "Isn't that enough evidence for you to believe in Jesus, his virgin birth and his resurrection from the dead?"

No. I do not see nature as proof of Jesus' and Yahweh's existence much less their divinity. To me, the beauty and wonder of nature are just as much evidence for Rama, Shiva, Zeus or Thor as they are for Jesus or Yahweh. Come to think of it, Yahweh's portrait on the Sistine chapel bears a striking resemblance to Zeus and Thor. Are they related?

The scientific method has been far more useful to me than religion in understanding and appreciating the beauty and wonder of nature. To me, when I do not understand something it makes more sense to say "I don't know" or "Let's see what we can find out about that" than it does to claim that there is no need for further study, that we can find the answer to all things worth knowing in an ancient holy text. I like not knowing. I like uncertainty. I like continuing to learn from many, many books – some of them with no pictures. What wonder is there in a world whose full meaning can be contained within a single holy book like the Bible?

I speak of Christians because I am most familiar with their faith, having been taught it as a child. But all religions seem to have one or more holy books that they claim to be the fountainhead of all knowledge and wisdom worth having. This level of certainty frightens me. If every religion is certain of the accuracy of their book above all others, then what hope is there of peaceful coexistence? If every religion acts as a barrier to change how can we deal with the challenges facing us? How can we survive? What sort of programming can we expect on television in the future? Who wants to watch 3D reruns of David and Goliath forever?

This is why the scientific method of knowledge is more helpful to me. I resist using it to the fullest possible extent but eventually I come around. The scientific method requires me to make predictions based on my "belief", idea or hypothesis, to test it and then adjust it based on the outcome. The scientific method requires me to listen to and address questions from my peers. The scientific method requires me to admit the possibility that new evidence will require me to change my ideas especially the ones I hold most dear. There is nothing like watching a long held belief twist slowly in the flames of new knowledge before vanishing in a whiff of smoke. It's almost as good as sex. Wait a moment, I overstate the matter. It's almost as good as sex with myself.

I've never encountered a religion that encourages the same level of questioning, examination and revision as science. All religions evidently require, or at a minimum encourage, their followers to accept with minimal or no question that theirs is the true or preferred path. All of them seem about as open to change as a practicing alcoholic. This is only natural. If you've had the main stage for millennia you likely will retire only with the greatest reluctance, cursing the new actor as you do so.

I know there is no reason for me to hold a grudge. I know my limits and tendency toward grandiosity far too well to assume I have a right to judge others (I'll leave that to nature herself). I've even mastered a modicum of kindness during this life. For a time I was angry at church members. Today I bear them no ill will. They are doing as they believe, and many are among the kindest most generous people I know, especially if you agree with their faith. I ask only that they grant me the courtesy of letting me believe or not believe as I see fit.

If you practice religion remember that it is a practice and that none have mastered it. Please do not judge me too harshly for my moments of fun at your expense. You are welcome to share and poke fun at any aspect of my life as you see fit. Believe me when I say I have been there before you and have beaten you to the punch. I have jabbed at my faults to the point of bleeding many times before. You may raise a twinge or two if you are particularly violent, but you are unlikely to do any permanent harm.

So there it is, yet another little secret revealed. Another fig leaf removed from the enterprise known as Dale Hankins. I mean no one any harm (Please pardon my little jabs, it is difficult being so clever and having so little opportunity to express it). I have found, and continue to find, many powerful teachings in religions. I don't know if Jesus existed, but his existence is not required for me to appreciate the wisdom of, "Do unto others as you would have them do unto you." Similarly, I do not know if Socrates really existed. Yet his teaching that "The unexamined life is not worth living," has proven true time and time again in my life. I will continue to question and explore life. Asking questions and continuing to learn are the most human things I know how to do. I'm content to leave the religious practice of "blind faith" in the hands of those with stronger constitutions. When I have tried it I ended up in the hospital eating mashed potatoes with a plastic spoon.