Sunday Morning, Going Up

My new apartment is just opposite a storefront Pentecostal Church.  They hold services on Sunday, hours before my normal rising time, and they are loud.  From the size of the building, I can’t imagine it holds more than 25-50 people, but what they lack in numbers, they sure make up for in volume.  Ironically, I actually enjoy waking up to their songs on Sunday mornings.  The female parishioner, who is leading the congregation, manages to get everyone into the spirit, even me.

They don’t sing in English, so I don’t know what they’re saying, but it has spirit, lots of spirit, and I lie in bed and try to imagine what is going on.  I picture a scene near the end of an old Tarzan movie, after Tarzan has somehow saved the day for the tribe.  The natives are having a massive feast, dancing and chanting, and just as happy as can be.  That’s what it sounds like, to me.  The joy just seems to fill the neighborhood.

I didn’t hear them yesterday, and I don’t know why.  I just know that I was disappointed not to hear them.  It is a Sunday ritual I was beginning to enjoy very much.  In some way, it also provides me with a sense of connection with the neighborhood.  I don’t understand a word they are saying, but I feel the connection.  I guess that you could compare it to back when I was a Catholic and the mass was in Latin.  I didn’t understand all the words, but I felt the vibe.

I listened to a YouTube lecture this week given by Professor Robin Dunbar.  He is most famous for “The Dunbar Number,” 150.  His research revealed that 150 is the optimum number of meaningful contacts human beings should have.  If we have more meaningful contacts than that, we stretch ourselves too thin, and we cannot devote the proper amount of time to nurturing each relationship.  If we have fewer meaningful contacts, we can feel lonely.

This particular lecture, which I watched, was on the formation of the various religions, and their role in society.  Right away, he answered the first question that I and other Atheists and Agnostics would ask.  Why do people believe so strongly in something that cannot be proved?  His answer is that most people are not obsessed by Theology.  They didn’t study the 3,000 or so world religions and pick the one that had views closest to their own.  Instead, they simply attended the church their parents attended.  They grew to enjoy the company of other members of the church and developed a social bond with them.  The more often they went to church the stronger that bond became.  Infrequent church goers felt close to a couple other church goers.  Frequent church goers felt close to most of the other church goers, and people who went to church more often than once a week felt close to almost everyone in their congregation.  Basically, going to church made you feel happy, and you would be happiest if the congregation size was about 150 people.

The next thing he discussed was rituals.  People love rituals, and Religions are loaded with rituals.  The most popular rituals involved singing and dancing.  No wonder the Pentecostals across the street radiate joy.  They fit into the happiest category, church-goers, who like to sing and dance.  (Since I can’t see them, I don’t know if they are actually dancing, but I know that I can’t sit still while their music is playing.)

So, I’m still an Atheist, but now I see a purpose for religion, as a lubricant for social interaction and a source of pleasure for millions of people.  It doesn’t make any difference to me what they believe, as long as it isn’t “Kill non-believers.”

To address the lack of opportunities for Atheists to enjoy these benefits of religion, I’m even thinking of forming my own Church.  We would meet on Wednesdays, since that doesn’t seem to compete with any other religions, and our creed would be, “Believe whatever you want to believe, just don’t expect me to believe that, too.  Sing, dance, love your neighbor, and be happy.”

Since a good religion also has rituals that people can look forward to, we would probably serve beer.

Sing Halleluia.

Peace & Love, and all of the above,

Earl