Saturday's New York Times had an opinion piece, "The Blessings of Atheism," by Susan Jacoby, who is writing a biography of Robert Ingersoll, "The Great Agnostic."  Jacoby's main point is to counter arguments that atheists have nothing to offer when people are suffering.  Unfortunately, her solution is muddled and unsatisfactory.

She brings up the central problem for religious people: why does God "allow" so much suffering in the world.  One of my hobbyhorses is the wishy-washiness of modern Christianity, which is perfectly willing to ascribe good things to God's clear purpose and power, but bad things to his allowance.  Musicians and athletes seem particularly prone to public professions of God's interest in their performance.  Yesterday, the Ravens' Ray Lewis spent the first part of his post-game interview praising God for his perfect timing in Lewis's own career and the Ravens' victory.  But when it comes to suffering, God seems definitely less active.  Like Rabbi Harold Kushner, one can decide that God cannot be both all-good and all-powerful (Kushner sacrifices all-powerful), but the most common fallback position is that God's ways are inscrutable (when we don't like the consequences, though comprehensible when we do), and we just have to accept our inability to grasp them.  I don't understand how that provides consolation while suffering continues unabated, but it seems to be the best religious people can do.

Jacoby, however, wanders off in two directions.  First, approvingly citing Ingersoll, she argues that there is no difference between agnosticism and atheism.  I'm not sure what that has to do with her point, but the difference seems to me significant, as the etymology of the two words makes clear.  An agnostic says that s/he can have no knowledge of whether God exists or not.  Religious belief, therefore, remains on the table.  An atheist has concluded that there is no god; religion is no longer a subject of debate or even inquiry.  Football victories and human suffering are both caused by natural agencies--and that's that.  We can focus on what can be changed, ignore or bemoan what can't, but stop the futile search for final causes.

(I remember a particularly weak essay by Clarence Darrow, "Why I Am an Agnostic," that was reprinted in the first text I ever used for freshman composition.  Darrow used a stipulative definition of agnostic--a doubter--and concluded that since we all doubt various beliefs, we are all agnostic.)

Jacoby's main point is that atheism does have something to offer, both for private suffering (in this case death) and at moments of national grief, such as Newtown.  Borrowing from Ingersoll ("the dead do not suffer"), she concludes that an atheist can comfort the bereaved by saying that while death doesn't open the door ot another life, it offers "perfect rest," the end to suffering.  Cold comfort indeed!  While it's certainly true that death may be a boon for some, the twenty six- and seven-year olds who died at Newtown weren't suffering, and it's an insult to suggest that the notion of perfect rest is consolation and comfort. 

What does atheism have to offer at such moments?  Let's have the courage of our convictions and answer truthfully: not much.  We don't have the bromides of "they're now with Jesus or God or whomever" or "you'll be reunited in a future time."  We have nothing better than "I'm thinking of you" or "I'm sorry for your loss" or "I hope the memories of the good times will offer some consolation."  Sometimes, when I'm in a Whitmanian mood, his notion of the continuity--not in a supernatural sense, but simply that our atoms rejoin the rest of the natural world--of life is tempting.  It's then I think I'd prefer to be buried rather than cremated.  But those feelings don't last very long, and I don't think mourners are going to be comforted by quoting Whitman:  "to die is different from what any one supposed, and luckier" or "when I die, look for me under your bootsoles" or "as to you Corpse I think you are good manure."  No, Whitman is definitely not the poet to quote.  But the fact that we atheists don't have anything equivalent to the clichés of the religious doesn't undermine our sense of the world. 

To a more immediate point, although the "fiscal cliff" has been averted for the moment, there are more fiscal fights to occupy Congress, and then there are the fights over cabinet and judicial nominations, and perhaps as new business, the President and Congress will address immigration reform (if enough Republicans were frightened by the last election, they may even be amenable to structural changes), but when in all of this will there be the resolve to tackle gun control?  My sad prediction is that, despite all the talk in the days after the Newtown shootings, the NRA will re-assert its power, and Congress will let gun control proposals languish and eventually die.  Now that's manure.