Rugby and housing and shipwrecks, and why agnosticism is a bit wet
By gar, it's bin awhile! There's been a crapload afoot here in the darkest Antipodes, and I haven't been online spouting my arbitrary opinions about it. Wassup with that?
The big event going on around here is of course the Rugby World Cup, now entering the semi-final stage (or thereabouts). Now, I've never been a big fan of the not-so-beautiful game, and I'm generally disdainful of the fawning worship of the All Blacks that goes on around here (especially in the media). But I must admit, I've become quite enamoured of the whole business of late (starting with the Opening Ceremony, which was ten times what I expected it to be). I pretty much had to take an interest in the RWC since I've been teaching it as a social sciences unit, but even in my downtime I've watched and enjoyed quite a few games. The thing that's really impressed me about the tournament and the surrounding festivities is the support that all the other teams have had - the whole "adopt a second team" programme was a stroke of genius - and while the All Blacks have been getting their props, it hasn't been all about "us versus the world".
It's had its issues, of course. There was the ill-conceived "abstain for the game" fiasco, the transport nightmare on opening night, the ridiculous Mike Tindall scandal (and the dickhead who started it all) idiotic players comparing biased refereeing to the holocaust, and the entire country wincing in sympathy for Dan Carter's groin. But overall, it's been a positive experience. Now if New Zealand can just win the damn thing, it won't all have to end in a flurry of childish whining.
In other news, the wreck of the Rena has been stealing rugby's thunder a bit. I'm actually staying at Waihi Beach, a good 20-30 kilometres from where the oil and loose containers are washing ashore, but meetings are being held in local communities about what to do if things start drifting our way. The captain and first officer are quite rightly having the book thrown at them as we speak.
On the home front, I'm moving (yet) again. My flatmates have decided they "need time to themselves" (sure, okay) so - with the help of family and friends - I've managed to secure myself a cosy one-bedroom flat in Hill Park, my ol' childhood neighbourhood. Twice the space of my last place, deck, pool and bush area out back, walking distance to work, and it comes furnished for a little extra cash. Sadly, I can't move in until November 5th. The ants, they are in my pants.
Finally, some spiritual reflection and personal blathering on the subject of religion. If such things bore of offend you, stop reading now.
I've recently had the revelation that I am, in fact, an atheist. Which is to say, I've been an atheist since I was about fifteen, I just didn't think I was. After wandering away from my Presbyterian upbringing (and contracting a brief but nasty case of born-again christianity in my early teens) I didn't think about God much at all until some time in my late twenties, when I started referring to myself as an "agnostic". My justification being that I didn't know if there was a God or not (this is, after all, the literal meaning of the term). As my belief in "the Sky Bully" continued to wane, I started jocularly referring to myself as "an agnostic with atheistic tendencies."
After some research and reflection, I've come to the conclusion (largely with the help of Penn Jilette, of all people) that your place in the Great Theological Barn Dance isn't determined by what you know - because nobody really "knows" - but by what you believe. Theism is the belief in a supreme being, atheism is the absence of that belief. Agnosticism is generally considered the safe middle ground (hence it's popularity) but to me, there is no middle ground. Belief is belief, and you either have it or you don't. You can't dig half a hole.
Thus, if your answer to the question "Do you believe in God?" is "I don't know," then you've effectively acknowledged a lack of firm religious belief and, thus, defaulted to atheism. You can refer to it as "agnostic atheism" if you like (I did, for about a week and a half) but it's pretty much two ends of the same burrito.
I won't claim this flurry of self-absorbed spiritual analysis as the be-all and end-all of the agnosticism debate (because I've already run into half a dozen people who disagree with me on the matter) but it's what works for me. And having spent the last twenty-or-so years living with the faint but nagging worry that someone might be up there counting sins and scribbling my name on the Infernal Guest List, it's a relief to finally and completely shrug it off. In the slurred and soulful words of Mr Bruce Springsteen: "Ain't no angel gonna greet me; it's just you and I, my friend."
You may now decry me as a godless heathen, or write to Santa Claus on my behalf. Amen.