An Interview with Wolf Blitzer

She’s a young, articulate mother holding an adorable kid, and she’s grateful that they’re safe and unharmed.

At the end of the interview (check it out here) Wolf Blitzer asked her if she “thanked the Lord,” and after an awkward pause that you and I have, no doubt, felt before, she reluctantly says, (uncomfortable giggle) “I’m actually an atheist.”

Score!!!!

And she was sweet and gracious and so freaking….normal.

Every time the world sees a person like this, the door opens just a little bit further.

The irony? She and her don’t own cell phones because they don’t want to succumb to the modern world. And yet, she’s so ahead of her time.

Hard Luck

I’m going to start counting how many times a day someone talks to me about God (or their church) or someone talks about God in the media I read or hear. Yesterday, the count would have been high for both.

Just one example: In Granbury (about an hour from Dallas), six residents were killed by a tornado. Seven were still missing. In yesterday’s paper, we learn that tornadogoing to church (a Baptist church) saves lives. A 26-year-old man and his family were spared by attending  the night of the deadly tornadoes. His house was leveled, but the church was spared. The hardest-hit neighborhood in that town? The Habitat for Humanity project. Kind of ironic, huh?

In Granbury, the hardest-hit neighborhood was Rancho Brazos, which had 61 homes built by Habitat for Humanity, a nonprofit that builds homes and sells them to low-income homeowners at cost.

With more bad weather heading our way this week, I was considering seeking shelter in a local Baptist church. But a quick search of churches and tornadoes yielded millions of hits for stories of downed places of worship. In fact, one church in Guy, Arkansas, was hit by 3 different tornadoes on the same day. Guess someone wanted that church down. Maybe they owed God money.

It’s not really funny–the damage that tornadoes do to people and places. But it just goes to show there is no correlation between weather events and who or what is spared. Bad or good luck. That’s it.

Why everyone doesn’t think this is baffling, but it seems that when a church is spared, it just reinforces the idea that God saves (for some lucky folks). And when God (oops) accidentally plows over a church in his angry rampage? Well, he was sending a message about what a big disappointment we all are. Just keep the faith. If you are lucky enough to see that your church was razed, God spared you.

The Big Day

Today is the big day. My younger kid has a motocross race that he’s been anticipating for weeks.

You should know now that I hate that he races. I never watch. I can’t.

I wake up all night long the day before, terrified, thinking of all the possible ways he could get hurt–or worse. I lay there, tossing and turning, hoping that tomorrow night, I’ll get a more restful sleep once the day’s races are over and my kid is safely in his bed.

That’s when I think of my grandmother. When I’d visit her, I’d wake up early in the morning to find her sitting quietly in a darkened living room with her rosary in her hand. She was praying for her children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren. Praying was her way of finding solace for all those worries that keep you and I awake at night, of sharing the emotional burdens of life, even if the person she was sharing with only existed in her head.

I’d sit down beside her, and she’d pat my leg and whisper, “How you doing, Deb?” She was so sweet and vulnerable and full of love. Having children is a privilege, she’d always say, and then she’d go on to tell me about the three perfect girls she’d had, how they never gave her trouble–not once–because there’s nothing better than time and distance to erase the fine lines and flaws of childhood. Most memories, like a Monet, are better from afar.

I’d sit with her until she was done saying her rosary, her mouth moving silently. Though I never said them anymore, I still, if I didn’t think too hard, could recite the Our Father’s and the Hail Mary’s. I didn’t tell her that I was no longer a believer, had not been for more years than I had been one. She just assumed that I was like so many other Catholics of my generation who stopped going to church but still held to their faith. Sort of.

But that peace she found in her rosary, that exchange of saying prayers for God’s attention to the welfare and safety of people you love, I get that. You and I don’t have a rosary. We’re acutely aware that our kids are at the mercy of others, of nature and of luck, both good and bad. Trusting the wrong person or being in the wrong place at the wrong time could have catastrophic implications. We worry for our kids, who have so little fear, if any, who just see themselves as indestructible super-heroes in one giant playhouse. They have a self-image that is much bigger and much stronger than it should be.

So, we worry. And like praying, worrying is futile. But it is the exchange we offer up to the universe, hoping that, if we think and fret about every possible thing that could go wrong, that will somehow be a prophylactic against it happening.

Charting an atheist roadmap-by LT

     Lance Thruster (or LT as some of us call him) is guest blogger today. Most of you already know him through the comment section. He’s written an interesting post with some additional links below. I look forward to the discussion.
     Atheists have no atheist pope or canonized atheist bible. Freethought is by its very nature “buffet style.” It’s an interesting aspect of non-belief that supposedly in order to counter what is seen by us as misplaced/incorrect belief by the religionists, we are expected to have some sort of ‘solution’ in place as a substitute, as if that is what is required beforehand to oust baseless interpretations of reality. I’d rather be a trailblazer and chart my own course than be compelled to use a ‘map’ of questionable veracity (and by ‘questionable’ I mean wrong and logically inconsistent).
     Sometimes it seems the solution is to work towards a better or more accurate ‘road map’ however incomplete that task is at any given time, and not to treat some claim of ‘revealed knowledge’ as an inerrant guide to life when in reality it might have no more application to our existence than a child’s treasure map on the back of a diner placemat.
     The Age of Enlightenment began a process that broke free of the stranglehold that religious irrationalism had fettered humanity with for some time. Religionists get angry that not every decision human society makes is done by consulting their revealed knowledge texts (though far too many are), but then no one seems traumatized that astrologers are not consulted in making those same decisions either. The rationalist approach doesn’t guarantee progress or that things will get better, but I do feel it is the star by which to steer our ship.
     I’d be interested in your reactions/thoughts on these articles that have appeared on salon.com, many of them quite recently. To see others you might find interesting, type “atheist” or “atheism” in their search field and see what comes up.
Claim that atheists don’t know enough about the religion they criticize – http://www.salon.com/2009/04/28/terry_eagleton/
Better to trust an irrationalist? – http://www.salon.com/2012/07/01/dont_trust_the_godless/
A little about LT:

I am a university staff member who was raised Catholic and become an atheist somewhere in my mid 20′s. The late Prof. Paul Kurtz was my inspiration to become involved in freethought and church/state separation issues as a member of the Council for Secular Humanism and Americans United for Separation of Church and State.
I’d like to thank Deborah for allowing me to guest post on her site. She has done a wonderful job of creating a community for freethinkers to discuss the many facets of godlessness.

Happy Mom’s Day

peaceloveMy kids always ask me what I want for ______ (fill in the blank with Mother’s Day, birthday, Christmas), and every time I tell them the same thing. Don’t get me anything. I don’t want stuff. Write me a letter and tell me what I’m doing right. Yet every time, I get a store-bought card with someone else’s words (and being boys, they are not so much into words as into the funny noises the body can make). So, either I’m not doing anything right or my kids are trying to tell me that they don’t like to write. Seeing that I used to make them write book reports over the summer and critiques of commercials they watched on public TV, I get that. When you’re a mom, you just never know if what you’re doing is right. Sometimes great ideas turn out to be mistakes. Sometimes mistakes turn out to be great ideas. I now know that forcing my kids to write did not foster a fondness of it.

A good friend of mine once said, it doesn’t matter how many mistakes you make with your kids, as long as there is love in the home and your kids feel it, that makes up for everything. That’s what I’m counting on to cancel out all the times I lost my temper or dropped the ball. That’s what I hope is true for all of us, stumbling through life, just trying to be the best mothers, daughters, wives, sisters and friends we can.

Happy Mother’s Day to all the great moms out there who are working hard to develop a product (kids) that will make a better future for everyone. And thanks to all the men who encourage us.

Peace, love, hope and hugs.

God, The Enabler

First, I decided just to be upfront about who I am. After all these years, no more hiding. If this blog is simply a meeting place for all of us to discuss our thoughts and beliefs about religion and God, then I should be free to reveal my identity–and you should, too. My family and friends call me Deborah, Deb, Debbie. Call me what you like. I’m even changing my avatar. It’s the real me.

Second, make no mistake. Belief in God does make a parent’s job easier. It just does. Not better, just easier. You defer punishment to an imagined power that is mightier than you, and you harness the fear of this imaginary deity. I remember, to mold my behavior, my grandmother used to tell me, “God is watching you!,” and the trepidation that those words brought. Would he slap the sh*t out of me with his giant hand or was he making a list of all my naughty thoughts and behaviors, which would then be read on judgment day?

Ridiculous, right?

Then, like many of you, I grew up and out of my belief. And I realize now that religion is the lazy man’s way of child-rearing. There is a pre-existing moral structure in place. Honor your father and mother. Do not lie. Do not steal. Do not commit adultery. Of course we know these dictates don’t work for sh*t because the person you’re answering to isn’t a real person. It’s God, the figment created in a child’s head and nurtured through childhood by the consumers of religion. When these consumers grow older and become adult shareholders, the savvy, manipulative ones, stretch and pull and fit that God to their individual needs.

If you read the article on CNN this morning about Mark Sanford, you know that he’s proof that the god-system of child rearing is ineffectual. He makes a mockery of the whole business. He said,

I want to acknowledge a God not just of second chances but third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh, eighth chances, because that is the reality of our shared humanity,” Sanford said at his victory celebration after defeating his Democratic opponent, Elizabeth Colbert Busch. “I am one imperfect man saved by God’s grace.”

How convenient. His god forgives him. Again. And again. Like many folks, Sanford’s an addict and his god, the enabler. That’s the reality. Sanford knows that he’ll be forgiven as many times as he needs it. And God doesn’t even exact a punishment. Instead, he rewards him. “Saves” him, whatever the heck that means. How does Sanford know that he’s been saved? Did God tattoo a stamp on his derriere ‘SAVED!”?  Or does he just know he’s saved because he’s won the race and he’s in his happy place? (The answer is the latter.)

I’m curious. What kind of God or parent or judge or half-decent role model would lay down a law, and then allow a man to commit the same offense over and over and over, walking on others, breaking hearts, lying to and deceiving those who trust him? Saved by God’s grace? Hell, Sanford is laughing all the way to the seat he won in the House. You’ve got to think that a man who is capable of running for office and winning in spite of his offenses, is also capable of seeing the ruse of religion. He must know that painting an image of himself as a weak man humbled by the almighty will only endear him to his slumbering, god-fearing voters.

Let’s imagine for a minute that you or I were God. I would not forgive people like Sanford so quickly. In this sense, I am more judgmental than a Christian. Sanford broke his promises, he misrepresented himself. He didn’t just lie once. He proved he was a liar. He didn’t just cheat once. He proved he was a cheater–in and out of the bedroom. Imagine the time and energy it took to deceive his wife, his family and every other person who trusted him. Can he be rehabilitated? Maybe, but he’d have to show signs of improvement (not breaking the law again and trespass on his ex-wife’s property). He’d have to do the hard work of making amends with the people he has betrayed–not with the imaginary characters living in his head, which costs him nothing in time, energy or money.

Being honest and faithful takes a bit of work. You have to say no temptation. You have to give up what you want for the greater good or for ideals. We all have to do it. And we know all of this when we decide to make a commitment and hunker down with one person. We give our word. Not God’s word. Not the word of some imaginary wizard living in the forest. If we break our word, we betray ourselves, and that should be one of the worst offenses of all because we have no way of making an honest connection with anyone. This is what nonbelievers know. We are accountable only to the people who live and breathe on this planet, to others and ourselves–not to an imaginary father figure.

I’m not trying to pick on one person. I’m only trying to show how religion and belief in God doesn’t make us better as a people. In raising our kids without religion, we teach them right from wrong. We teach them to internalize their morality. Do the right thing. Be your word. Keep your promises. This takes more effort. We have to stay on our kids. Watch them. Talk to them. Make them pay for their offenses. Go behind and check up on them. We don’t just round them up and take them to church for their lessons in morality once or twice a week. We don’t just tell them, “God forgives you” when they’ve done something wrong. We tell them, you have to be forgiven by those you’ve offended. You have to pay. Sometimes you will never be forgiven. Sometimes, you will not be able to forgive yourself. You will fall, but you must get back up and take a different path. Learn from your mistakes. Try, as best you can, to change. Otherwise, you’re no better than the religious, on their knees, asking for god’s forgiveness once again, for the same offense.

We are free to make own choices, but that freedom comes with costs and responsibilities. For nonbelievers, no imaginary man will forgive our offenses and wipe our conscious’ clean. We have to live with our consequences. The reality of our shared humanity is that, we are all imperfect. No one saves us but ourselves.

Who’s in the closet?

Just a quick post this morning to vent.

I know a few of you probably read the CNN article this morning, “When Christians Become a Hated Minority.” And you were probably wondering, since when did Christians become a minority and who said anything about hate?

We don’t “hate” Christians. We just want them to keep their mouths closed. Big difference.

The behavior–the sin, if you will–that we don’t like Christians committing is that they’ve made themselves the morality police. Take for example, this quote:

Bryan Litfin, a theology professor at Moody Bible Institute in Illinois, says Christians should be able to publicly say that God designed sex to take place within a marriage between a man and a woman.

Mr. Litfin thinks that his God should be our God. He fails to understand that this magical imaginary man should not be making the rules and moral proclamations for the rest of the country. If Christians want to talk about how evil __________________(fill in the blank) is, I don’t have a problem with that. They just need to keep it inside their religious homes and places of worship. The rest of us don’t want to hear it.

When it comes to my neighbor’s sexual preference it’s none of my business. Unless he’s harming someone or engaging in sexual acts with a 12-year-old or his dog, I don’t give a damn what the hell he does. It’s not. my. business.

Isn’t it enough that we, as taxpayers, subsidize their churches so that they can preach whatever they want amongst themselves? Shouldn’t that be enough of a forum?

You and I probably find this comment ironic:

The reluctance of evangelicals to speak out against homosexuality is often cited as proof they are being forced into the closet.

Isn’t it funny that some Christian folks think that they are “in the closet” because it’s no longer acceptable to make gays feel ashamed of being gay? Many of us have been in the closet for a while, and I haven’t noticed any Christians in here. Have you?

There’s probably a reason why they feel funny about disclosing their views on homosexuality–and it’s not because they’re hiding in any closet. Discrimination is not OK, no matter what it’s dressed up as. They can no longer whip gays with god’s belt.

Coming Out

Remember our parents always used to say, “Don’t talk religion or politics.” There’s nothing more divisive than those two topics. Yet sometimes, we need to talk about our religious beliefs. Coming out to friends and family can be difficult for many reasons, and each situation, each person, is different. I hope this post sparks a useful discussion (here you go, Shelley). I look forward to everyone’s input.

A. Is keeping quiet and playing along causing you grief?
If yes, go to question B. If no, keep reading here:  Sometimes, it’s easier to just play along. I’ll give you an example. My 80-something-year-old grandmother was a devout Catholic, and she believed with every last cell in her body that she would meet her entire family in heaven. She was a simple woman, and her family was her world. Why hurt her by telling her I’m not a believer? She would only worry about me, and she did not have the ability to even begin to understand why I’m a nonbeliever.

B. Do you know this person?
If yes, go on to question C. If no, keep reading here: If you don’t know the person, and you’ve been cornered some place (or even at your home) by a Jesus salesman, then, by all means, share your views with him or her. This doesn’t mean we have to steamroll them with facts and logic, but just say, “No thanks, I don’t believe, and I won’t discuss this with you.” If you are up for a little entertainment and would like a reminder of why you’re not a believer, you may want to engage in a conversation with God’s head hunter. But always, since we represent “our kind,” I think we should avoid being belligerent or hostile. It only turns us in to one of them. (Think of all the antagonistic evangelicals we know.)  We want to be the voice of reason, and that means leaving emotion out of our conversations. I know, I know. Theses people can be frustrating. You and I realize that the very annoying stranger trying to sell us on their god or their church doesn’t even realize they are not working for god, but for themselves. Finding converts means an express-pass to heaven, and all they’re really trying to do is save themselves. Still, we have to forgive them their ignorance.

C. Are you friends or family?
If you are family, go on to question D. If you are friends, read here: Friendships are like marriages. You and your friend are attracted to each other for some reason, and you have to be compatible to sustain the relationship. There is some commonality in which you can relate. Sometimes, these common interests change. Sometimes, we just outgrow our friends. But I can tell you that, while you may mourn the loss of a friend because of religious differences, ultimately, you’re better off. Trust me, in most cases, they won’t respect your views. Each religion teaches its followers that their way is the right and only way, so naturally your friends will always be right. And if you come clean that you’re a nonbeliever, you’ll always be a threat to and a splinter in their “spiritual” health (or, psyche, to us). Why a threat? Because you’re rejecting their belief system, and in doing so, you tell them their beliefs don’t make sense. Because, when it comes to religion, there is strength in numbers. And when you doubt, when you say you don’t believe, you make them feel insecure about their own beliefs. For you and me, we’ll always look at our religious friends askance and wonder how flipping crazy is it to believe that god is talking to them or has planned out the minutiae of their lives. Every time we hear a godism, we’ll cringe. And every time we hear a Christian friend complain about giving access to affordable healthcare to the poor, we’ll note the hypocrisy because Jesus enthusiasts are supposed to love their neighbors and help the poor.

On the other hand, there will be some friends that you can come out to without jeopardizing your friendship. You’ll know who they are. Friends who are loosely tethered to their religions (for example, a lot of Catholics) or friends who are just more tolerant (people who are from certain areas of the country). To these friends, your disclosure will mean nothing more than a preference for a certain color or a certain beer or wine.

Some friends just won’t get what you’re saying. I have a friend who thinks I just don’t believe in religion, and no matter how many times I tell her, she just cannot (or will not) understand that I don’t believe in god either. Every once in a while, she tells me I’m going to heaven because “I’m a good person, no matter what I believe.” I think she is in denial because she wants to maintain our friendship. And that’s ok with me, but she won’t be one of my close friends. The friends you hold near and dear accept you, and they can say, “I know she doesn’t believe in god, and she’s still my friend.”

D. If you cannot stand it any more, and need to be heard and understood by your family, you might just softly say (and I’ve had to do this), “I’m sorry. I’ve given my religious belief a lot of thought and consideration. I respect how you believe (mom, dad, brother), but I just don’t believe any more. I’m agnostic/atheist.”

I had to tell my folks, and while my mom is, like any other mother, devoted and loving, it does pain her that I don’t believe. There is a chasm, too, when we talk, because she believes in things like mediums and talking to spirits, and she knows I don’t. Still, she hopes I will. I understand her need for these things, and I listen to her and don’t criticize. (Instead, I come on here and vent!) But we have to consider the intentions of the people who love us. They are fearful that we will not be “saved.” I know my mother is disappointed in me, and I realize that coming out to her was better for me, but clearly not for her. She prays for me because she doesn’t want me going to the deep, deep south after I die. That’s fine. Her prayers don’t hurt me, but they bring her some kind of comfort. From my perspective, it was better to be honest than to continue living a lie—or worse, to have my mom find out from someone else who had reads my articles. Yes, I will still attend church with her, but I will not participate as a believer, only as a person who respects other’s traditions. I sit and stand on queue, but I do not say the prayers or take the sacraments.

Sometimes, you might encounter some anger or resistance rather than sadness and disappointment. I offer that we just calmly continue to tell others, “I respect your right to believe; please respect my right not to.” We will not gain acceptance by kicking down the front door. We have to desensitize believers and let them know we are not a threat to them. No matter what we say, they will not budge from their place of belief or understand where we are coming from. We cannot open a door for them. They will have to do it themselves. The best we can hope for is that they leave us in peace. American Christians are like no other. Most believe they believe they have an inalienable right to force their belief system on everyone else, whether it’s an individual, a group of people or a nation, and our goal is to break free from that mindset.

In all interactions with those who believe, whether the person is our best friend or a stranger, I think we should be a good representative for our cause and show them that there is no war on religion; we just want the same rights and respect as believers. We don’t try to talk them out of believing, and we don’t want the religious to try to talk us into believing. We are not in the market for god or religion.

There is a tolerance paradox, meaning we are sometimes intolerant of those who are not tolerant and hence intolerant ourselves. I know I can fall into this trap, but I try to remember where intolerance comes from. It grows out of fear and out of focusing too much on the self, and those are two things that religion encourages. A lot.

Sorry this post grew so long. I would love to hear your experiences and/or thoughts on how to talk to others about your beliefs.

Poor Logic

When it comes to figuring out the logic of some believers, do you ever feel like you’re watching a dog chasing its tail?

In my city, we get these magazines called “Living” in our mailboxes every month. It doesn’t matter if you call and ask them not to waste paper and postage, the company continues to send them regardless. I’ve given up and just resigned myself to flipping through the “magazine” (it’s rather more of a mailbox infomercial) to get an idea of what this publisher thinks people in their target market are like.

Every month, without fail, they have a piece on god, usually written by one of the editors. April’s magazine talked about the miniseries “The Bible.” The author, Michelle Wallace, writes this:

Now a word to the skeptics of God’s story. You say, “Parting of seas, men swallowed by a giant fish who lived to tell about it. And the craziest of all, God becoming a man, dying and defeating death so that I could live forever in a place where no sin or suffering will be allowed!” Through the years I’ve tried to logically reason it out, but it always comes down to faith, and honestly, I can’t think of a better plan. I’m a sinner, in need of a savior. And, God doesn’t override my will; He gives me the freedom to choose.

Here’s the thing, if your god is unable to bring the literal parting of the Red Sea. If this doesn’t fit into a logical and reasonable realm of possibility, so you dismiss it offhand, then your god is too small. He’s not the God of the Bible. And, the god who can be contained within my limited and reasonable capacity, is not a god big enough for me.

Let me recap what the author said in the first paragraph: I’ve tried to understand these outrageous Bible stories. Gee, I just can’t–they don’t really make sense. But I believe anyway!!! I’m a naughty, sinful girl, and I need someone to save me.

And her “plan” to reason things out is faith. Faith is not a plan. Faith means you close your eyes and jump. There is no plan to it. She tried to understand, but couldn’t, so what the hell, she’s a believer! Now I know why people make stupid investment choices. I know why they give their money to shysters who call over the phone promising huge returns. I know why they buy swampland.

Remember the writer is supposed to be swaying doubters. In the second paragraph, she says that she doesn’t want a God she can understand.  (Huh?) “And, the god who can be contained within my limited and reasonable capacity, is not a god big enough for me.”  These two paragraphs are full of contradictions. If your god is so complex that you can’t figure out how he parted the seas, if you cannot, by your own admission, understand him, how can you know the mind of god? How do you know he’s giving you the freedom to choose? How do you know he’s not “overriding your will?” Maybe I’m missing something: how can some folks speak on god’s behalf and claim to know his will, when they also say he is too complex to understand?

This is all terrible logic. The only thing I hear besides me, me, me is dumb and dumber. Can you imagine turning in a paper to your science professor that says, “I don’t understand how the human heart works, but I’m a believer that it works!” Give me an A and send me on to the next class!

Seems to me that what this author really wants is a fantasy. A fairy-tale. A complex, super-human version of man and a happy ending. Some one to save her from herself. May I suggest she start with Fifty Shades of Gray?

I’m sure glad this writer is not teaching my kids or making my laws. But you and I know that she is teaching her kids and she is voting in our leaders, and for every one of her, there are 10 more teaching in the schools or making our laws. These folks are either limited in their reasoning abilities or just flat-out crazy. I think it’s the former.

That’s why I sometimes feel as if we’re watching dogs chase their tails.

Good Deeds & etc.

So many things to write about, so little time. Here’s just a few. Please feel free to contribute to any of it….

First, for my friends who like John Fugelsang, check out this great piece here called, “God is the least pro-life character in the Bible.”

Second, I was at Jimmy John’s about two weeks ago, and they had $1 sandwich day, which meant the line was long and the sandwiches were skimpy. I’m not sure why people feel the need to stand in line just to save a few bucks, but nonetheless, I was standing in line trying to save a few bucks. The line moved fast, and after I had placed my order and turned around, there was a young woman standing beside me, and she had $8 in her hand. She said she wanted to pay for my lunch. She was younger than me, and I have this rule about taking money from a younger person, who I know needs it way more than I do. So I said, “That’s so kind of you, but I’ve already paid. Perhaps you can give it to someone else.” She was insistent that I take the money–maybe I should have dressed up a little more. I truly felt bad, but I took her money anyway, and after thanking her from the bottom of my heart for such a sweet deed, she said to me, “God Bless” and smiled.  After she walked out the door, I passed out the money to several people behind me and told them this nice young lady, whom I didn’t know, wanted to buy me lunch, and now I want to buy all of their sandwiches. They were all very kind, of course, and I was just thinking that it makes no difference whether you do it in God’s name or just do it (thanks, Nike), the effect is the same. Most of us are just trying to make the world a better place.

Which brings me to my third and last point. I stepped out of my comfort zone to be a witness in a court case. I’m an introvert (I swear), so it’s not exactly fun for me to get up in front of people and talk about my experiences. I’ve worked in a courtroom before, and I know what the attorneys and judges and bailiffs say after witnesses leave. But, as I was being sworn in, after the judge uttered “so help you God,” I was so damned tempted to ask the judge, so help me who? But, I’m pretty sure, had I done that, no one in the courtroom would have believed–or heard–a word I said. A lot of people just don’t get it–you don’t need to swear to “God” or some other invisible person. How the heck does that guarantee honesty at all? If people are going to lie, they’re going to do it regardless. And if they feel bad about lying, well, they’ll just ask for God’s forgiveness later. IMHO taking an oath means nothing. You should already be your word. 24/7/365