
We knew it was coming, and on Thursday night, December 15, 2011, it came. Christopher Hitchens died at the age of 62 of esophageal cancer. Countless words have been and are being written about him, and deservedly so. He was a great thinker, a great writer, and his book God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything articulated what many people felt but were afraid or unable to say.
Hitchens’s body of work isn’t going anywhere. He has left behind a legacy that people will be reading for generations to come. But his death has done something his writing could not. Ever since he was diagnosed with cancer in 2010, the very fact of his illness and impending death managed to create a vivid and living illustration of all the points he made in God Is Not Great. More effective than his writing on the subject of religion and how it poisons everything was the behavior of believers in response to his illness, and then to his death.
When Hitchens was diagnosed with cancer, the response from Christians on the internet ran the gamut from gleeful delight to questions about whether or not they should pray for such an unrepentant atheist.
In an article in the Washington Post’s section “On Faith,” Dr. Francisco Contreras discussed the cancer diagnoses of two people: Hitchens and evangelical Christian celebrity Joni Eareckson Tada. Of Hitchens, he wonders “if his illness could be the result of god’s judgment.” He wonders no such thing about Tada and remains silent about the possible reasons she might have gotten cancer.
Tada was paralyzed in 1967 when she dove into shallow waters in Chesapeake Bay. She’s written books, recorded albums and played herself in a movie about herself. When I was a boy, her book Joni was required reading … although I never finished it. Her entire claim to fame was that she was paralyzed and a Christian. Contreras wonders if Hitchens’s cancer was a punishment from god and points out that Christians were asking if they should pray for him. But of Tada, he writes:
“Meanwhile, the Christian community has offered up its prayers for Tada, who has been paralyzed since 1967, and praised her ability to ‘show us how to suffer’ once again, this time with breast cancer.”
Suffering is big with Christians. If you’re not a Christian — or if you’re a bad Christian — your suffering is a punishment from god. But if you believe Jesus is your savior and you say your prayers, your suffering is a way to witness to others for Jesus and be a good example, and it gives your fellow Christians a chance to praise Jesus — and to praise you, of course. Suffering is to Christians what breast implants and rehab are to Hollywood celebrities. So Contreras doesn’t wonder if Tada had it coming.
The funny thing about Contreras is that he’s an oncologist. He’s a doctor who treats cancer patients. And yet he writes nonsense like this:
“As an oncologist and man of faith, I am convinced that there is no substitute for a firm grounding in Christ for people managing disease. The powerful peace that stems from right relationship with god and man as outlined in scripture cannot be found anywhere else.”
The implication is that Tada will be just fine because she knows how to suffer (she’s a professional!) and has Jesus on her side; Hitchens, on the other hand, is in for a world of hurt. Contreras’s article was smarmy and passive-aggressive, but it was pretty mild compared to some of the other responses.
NJ Voices blogger George Berkin claims that cancer was the best thing that ever happened to Hitchens and was a gift from god — “A cancer,” he writes, “which god didn’t ‘give,’ but certainly permitted.” (Can anyone tell me how permitting cancer but not giving it is a distinction that somehow makes god a good guy — or how it’s a distinction at all?). He writes:
“If god really wanted to ‘get’ Hitchens, god would just ignore the man, and let him go his blissful way, unchallenged, to a peaceful death. At which point Hitchens would stand, face-to-face and unreconciled, with that very god.”
It would have been a punishment for god to ignore Hitchens? But “permitting” him to get cancer is a gift? If you can make sense of that, you’re way ahead of me. He gets very bitchy in the article, even whining about the fact that Hitchens does not capitalize the “g” in “god.”
“Unfortunately, a lot of Hitchens’ non-belief has a whiff of the village atheist about it. First off, there’s the title of his best-known anti-god book: god (sic) is not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything. Why the little ‘g’ for god? It’s his name, after all, and we capitalize proper names. The little “g” feels like the gratuitous disrespect rebellious small children are fond of.”
“God” is not a “proper name.” There are many gods, and each of them has a name. Each of those names is a proper noun and should be capitalized. Zeus is a god, for example, as are Vishnu and Odin and others. There is a certain arrogance in behaving your god is the god and that no proper noun is needed to identify him, that simply capitalizing the word “god” is sufficient. Yahweh is the name of the god to which Berkin refers, not “god.” I have taken the liberty of correcting Berkin’s arrogant (and sadly common) capitalization of the word “god” in these excerpts. Why is it always an atheist who has to explain this sort of thing to Christians?
Berkin goes on to point out that Hitchens’s atheism had its roots in something he heard in childhood. Then he makes a statement so breathtakingly stupid and ill-considered that the mind reels:
“For me, there’s something inane about an adult beginning to base their adult worldview on something wacko recalled from childhood.”
Has your head exploded yet? According to studies by Nazarene Church Growth Research and the International Bible Society, 85% of all Christians “make their commitment to Jesus between the ages of 4 and 14, that is, when they are children or early youth.” That’s because once people are beyond that age group, it gets rather difficult for them to swallow the Christian teachings about a talking snake, a pregnant virgin and a traveling magician who dies and then rises from the grave. Christian leaders are well aware of this and call it the “4 to 14 Window.” Entire programs are devoted to targeting for indoctrination children int his vulnerable age group. According to Berkin, it’s perfectly acceptable for people to become Christians and be baptized while they’re still children, it seems — but when the seed of atheism is planted during childhood, it’s “inane” and “wacko.”
The point that Berkin is trying — so clumsily and stupidly — to make is this:
“It is a cliché that there are no atheists in foxholes — or in cancer wards. It is a cliché because, human nature being what it is, there is a lot of truth to it. People do tend to wait until they are in big trouble (foxholes) or until the last minute (cancer wards) before they get serious about spiritual, end-of-life, matters. …
“Atheism is a fun game (and profitable, too) when you’re healthy, because there are no really serious consequences. Not so when you might be terminally ill, because then you’re about to make an eternal bet.”
Wait a second — “profitable?” Is Berkin really inviting the comparison of bestselling books about atheism to Christianity’s long and rich history of con artists who have bilked countless millions — billions probably would be more accurate — out of credulous followers? Does he want to bring up Christian extortionists like Oral Roberts, who, in January of 1987, claimed that god had told him to raise eight million dollars by March or god would “call him home?” Books have been written about how “profitable” — and wildly corrupt — Christianity has been throughout history. But … atheism is “profitable?” As the kids these days say, “Bitch, please.”
It’s not a “cliche” to say that there are no atheists in foxholes or cancer wards. It’s an outright unmitigated lie. Those who choose to believe this lie do so out of fear, and they can’t imagine how anyone else might not harbor the same fear. It’s a fear of what comes after death — that eternity of endlessly worshiping a god who is so insecure that he must constantly be told how great he is by his own puny creations, or that eternity of agonizing suffering promised by the “prince of peace” to those who didn’t worship him … or didn’t worship him correctly … or ate the wrong foods … or wore the wrong clothes … or read the wrong books … or thought the wrong thoughts.
The thing is, the people who believe in those two destinations are never quite sure which one will be theirs. Oh, sure, they say they’re saved and they’re going to heaven. They even say it with certainty. But it’s a certainty they can never really feel because both destinations are promised by the same “loving” god. If the possibility of suffering in flames forever is an expression of “love,” then … well, anything can happen. The only way to find out is to die. That makes death a terrifying thing to a lot of believers. Believe me, I’ve known people who hold this belief and live with that fear. I was one of them.
My friend Karen Leonard was a death care activist. She worked as Jessica Mitford’s researcher on the 1997 update of Mitford’s hugely popular book, The American Way of Death. Christopher Hitchens was a dear friend of Mitford’s and delivered her eulogy when she died of cancer at the age of 78 in 1996 and Karen was fortunate enough to have met Hitchens. But that’s not why I’m bringing her up. Karen worked for more than 10 years as a private death and dying aide. She was often the only person to witness the deaths of some of her clients because family members simply weren’t there. She made some astute observations.
“People are a distillation of who they really are when they’re dying,” she told me. “If they’ve been meek in life, for example, they’re meek in death. The ego is the last to go. The more they believe in god and heaven and hell — particularly hell — the more frightened they are of death. When that fear comes upon them, they think it’s because god has abandoned them. And that’s a horrible, horrible thing because that fear is perfectly natural. The more pious they are in life, the more fearful they are in death. I didn’t deal with many atheists. They were afraid, too, because everyone is afraid at that time. And angry, too, quite often. But the atheists weren’t afraid of or angry at god, so their fear was not as intense.”
The cackling delight so many Christians showed when they learned that Hitchens had terminal cancer was rooted in their certainty that when he finally came face to face with the end of his life, he would collapse in terror and cry out for Jesus to save him. Although they already believe, that’s exactly what they are going to do because with their belief comes uncertainty and fear. Many predicted that he would cave in at the end and experience a last-minute deathbed conversion. They were certain of it — in the same way they are certain of their salvation.
And they were wrong.
When Hitchens’s death was announced Thursday night, I went on Facebook and Twitter. There, I knew I would find others who were feeling the loss in the same way as I. And I really did feel it. I never met him, but Hitchens (along with Richard Dawkins) had an enormous impact on my life. He made me feel not so alone. God is Not Great gave me goosebumps when I read it the first time because it read like it had been written by someone who had reached inside my head, rummaged through my thoughts and knew exactly how I felt. Like so many others — enough to make it a worlwide bestseller — I got the eerie feeling that the book had been written specifically for me. I was not crazy for thinking that religion was a bad thing! I was not an evil person for being unable to believe in a monstrous, tyrannical god who made no sense — especially when he was called a “loving” god! Hitchens’s death was not only the loss of someone who was doing something extremely important, but someone who had been inside my head.
But on Twitter, I discovered some people who did not share my feelings. A lot of them.
As people began to discuss Hitchens’s death and mourn his loss, they tagged their tweets with the title of his most famous book. So many people did this, in fact, that #GodIsNotGreat showed up in the list of Twitter’s trending topics. Then Christians and other believers began to respond.
Some tried to spin the trending topic in the direction they wanted it to go with tweets like, “#GodIsNotGreat HE’S THE GREATEST.” Some either feigned ignorance — or really were ignorant — about the book: “Why is #GodIsNotGreat trending … they must have made a typo … and meant to say #GodISgreat!” But relatively innocent tweets like these were washed away by a wave of vitriolic hatred toward Hitchens and his supporters that included threats of violence and death like, “I seriously wanna kill whoever started the #GodIsNotGreat.”
Someone put together a short video showing some of them — it’s hard to believe something as cute-sounding as a “tweet” could be so ugly. These are a few examples, reproduced here as written:
“Why THE FUCK is #GodIsNotGreat trending? Whoever started that TT, kill yourself.”
“WHO EVA MADE THIS A TRENDIN TOPIC … ILL PERSONALLY KILL EM MYSELF … GOD IS THE BEST THING EVA MANE … AMEN”
“#GodIsNotGreat Gotta kill the person who said this!”
After a while, #GodIsNotGreat abruptly disappeared from the list of trending topics, although the tweets kept coming from all over the world. Was it removed because of the ugly threats? Because Christians and other believers complained? Or are topics ignored after they’ve trended for a certain amount of time? I don’t know. But a lot of people were upset when the topic disappeared, especially when other less savory topics like #ReasonsToBeatYourGirlfriend remained on the list longer.
Anyone who pays attention to this sort of thing probably wasn’t surprised by this response on Twitter. I certainly wasn’t. Remember earlier this year when American Atheists opposed the inclusion of the “World Trade Center Cross” in New York City’s WTC Memorial & Museum (which I thought was a bad idea, incidentally — choose your battles a little more wisely, folks)? This is a sampling of the way some Christians responded to that on Facebook. It’s pretty ugly.
This happens virtually every time Christians are faced with something they don’t like. The internet has made it more visible now than ever before. And yet so many people still insist that religion makes us better people. The evidence shows otherwise.
Paula Kirby is a former Christian and writer, a regular blogger on The Washington Post’s “On Faith” feature. She posted this on her Facebook page today:
A Free Church of Scotland minister sent this typically mean-spirited email to the RDFRS UK (Richard Dawkins Foundation for Reason and Science) email address this morning:
“So now Chritopher (sic) Hitchins (sic) knows that god exists. Sadly it is too late – he should have listened to his wiser brother. Its (sic) not too late for you. Repent and believe in the lord Jesus Christ and you will be saved.”
My reply:
“There is no more evidence for the truth of Christianity today than there was yesterday. Your email has, however, provided more evidence for the vileness of it.”
How shriveled these people show themselves to be, especially when viewed alongside the generosity, warmth and sheer humanity of a colossus like Hitch. That they honestly think HITCH is the one who failed the test of life and that they are better people than he was just speaks volumes: religion really does poison everything.
These are only a few examples of something that’s been going on for more than a year. In his writing and public speaking engagements, Christopher Hitchens eloquently explained to anyone who would listen how religion poisons everything. His points were extremely difficult to argue with, but while some tried, the arguments inevitably decayed into smiling, passive-aggressive threats of damnation or hateful personal attacks. The points Hitchens made still stand. And they have been glowingly vindicated by the behavior of his critics. Christians, Jews and Muslims alike have repeatedly displayed the poison of which Hitchens wrote and spoke.
This is why we needed Hitchens so much, why he was so important. This is why the work he did must continue. While he pointed out the poison of religion, he did not eradicate it, of course — no individual could, not even someone as powerfully gifted as Hitchens. The poison remains.
No one will replace him. We will not see his likes again anytime soon, if ever. But it’s vital that the exposure of that poison go on. It will take every atheist, humanist and skeptic working at the same time to come close to being as effective as Hitchens, and even then, it won’t be the same. But that’s no reason to get discouraged and sit on our hands.
You don’t have to be a genius with words, whether writing them or speaking them, or have a mind that’s faster than a rocket or a memory that appears to be superhuman. Only one man had all of those things in equal measure. He’s gone, and he’s not going to rise from the dead to pick up where he left off — not on Sunday morning or ever. All you have to do is not be silent. You don’t have to be an obnoxious ass about it. Just don’t give the bullshit a pass. You know it when you hear it, when you see it. Speak up. It won’t necessarily be easy and you’ll probably stir some anger. Nothing worth accomplishing is easy. And this isn’t just worth accomplishing — the poison of religion is something we absolutely must raise awareness of because it is killing us.
I can imagine Hitchens laughing at all of this bile directed at him and his supporters, were he here to see it. And it’s a shame he’s not. But if he were, it wouldn’t be happening, and believers would not be proving Hitchens’s point so emphatically. I don’t know if he was the type of person to say, “I told you so!” But he did tell us so. Religion poisons everything, and his death makes that just as clear as his work.
In God is Not Great, Hitchens wrote, “The person who is certain, and who claims divine warrant for his certainty, belongs now to the infancy of our species. It may be a long farewell, but it has begun and, like all farewells, should not be protracted.”
Now he’s left it up to us to see to it.