I asked Rich Turner, an atheist friend of mine, to record his thoughts on the Exile Band's new un|broken
album.
I never thought I'd ever be excited about the arrival of a Gospel album through the post, but then
un|broken is a little different, and I'm even playing it on my iPod as I tap away at this keyboard. Let me explain. Track number 7, Love Song, is dedicated to “Rich and Wana”, and I'm the “Rich” bit. It's a great feeling having a song written for you, I can recommend it, and we were lucky enough to have Mark [Calder, songwriter] and his wife, Karen, perform it for us at our wedding celebration in Zambia in March 2008.
I'm referring to myself as an atheist in this piece and I'll try to clarify that later, but suffice to say that me and gospel music have never normally been great bed fellows. My wife is a committed Christian, and so my exposure to religious music has dramatically increased since we've been together, but even though I like to think that I'm open to all kinds of music and that I'm the world's greatest singer in the confines of my car – when alone, of course – on hearing it, I do find myself involuntarily reaching to turn the volume down. Not much, just below zero.
You see, when it comes to contemporary Christian music, and I can only really comment on this branch of religious music, I've found that I have a bit of a problem. It's always seemed to me that it's the lyrics that are the important bit and the music is an afterthought. Fair enough, I'm pretty certain they haven't been written for someone with my viewpoint, but I end up being able to concentrate entirely on the lyrics which I find hard to swallow to start with and then they're accompanied by a dreary tune. And they say the Spanish Inquisition was tough on non-believers! Don't get me wrong, I'm not trying to get Christian people wishing they could swear at this, it's just my opinion, from my experience – I don't mean for it to sound sweeping. Hey, who could honestly say they didn't tap their feet to the great music in the film Sister Act?
Exile Band's
un|broken is a refreshing change from the music I have come to dread. Now, I could be accused of being biased because of Mark Calder being a friend of mine, but there's not much I can do about that connection now, it's there. It's still a great album. Obviously, 'Love Song' is a track that's very special to me, and it triggers some amazing memories from our time in Zambia. As a result, I must confess that it does get played a little more than most.
The diversity of the band members is reflected in the mix of music styles on this album, but in every case the production is never neglected. 'Little by Little' delivers if you're into the Blues, 'Shining Light' provides a harder edge if you're in need of some rock ( I'm sure Mark once told me he was into thrash metal), and there's even a couple of tracks that wouldn't be out of place in one of Lord Webber's West End stage productions. I hope they take that as a compliment, the guy's very successful. So, despite my resistance, I now find myself singing along (ok, in the car) to these songs, and it's because they're good songs. 'Hallelujah' really is a stand out track, building brilliantly with layers of voices, oh, and mine over the top of it on the journey home from work. I don't even know what it means!
Will this album convert me to Christianity? No, I doubt it very much, but I don't think that's what it sets out to do. I get the feeling that these songs are personal to the performers, and I'm being allowed to just listen in on their thoughts. They'll be used to that though. And so I sing along, but I don't join in. That's atheists for you.
I suppose we're a little envious of the feeling of fellowship that sweeps through a group of people linked by a common belief, when they're belting out their songs of worship. Do the atheists have these opportunities? I'm not sure that they do – perhaps on the football terraces the common bond is felt, even if it is at the expense of the referee's optician. Of course, I should also acknowledge the audience at a Barry Manilow concert who manage to get themselves worked up to quite a fever. (And I should know, I've witnessed it – don't ask. Although I'm not sure that anyone has yet been prepared to die (or kill) just because some one didn't agree with the message of “Copacabana”.)
Again, I'm really not trying to offend people of faith by equating songs of worship with “Can't smile without you”, but that's how I, as an atheist, view it. I just don't get it. To me a fan is still just a fan, regardless of where their devotion is directed.
The thing is, even if atheists did get together for a sing-song, can you imagine what it would be like? What songs would they sing? A ridiculous scene springs to my mind of a bunch of people gathered in a leisure centre hall, with the Chief Boffin at the front (wearing of course, the ceremonial lab coat), introducing the next song. “And now we will sing hymn number 1 in your text books, a tune originally made popular by Ray Davies' pop combo, The Kinks. Please join in with me for 'I'm an ape man, I'm an ape, ape man'”.
It's not going to happen, is it? I do hope not.
So where can music play it's part in bridge building between people of opposing faiths or viewpoints? I'm not sure if it truly can. Unless it is that there is a recognition of the joy someone else can feel through the music of their faith, as they do from their own. The problem as I see it is that faith runs deep, and it's not much for bending, let alone breaking.
So when opposing views on religion meet head-on, no matter how courteous the exchange may be, each party is thinking to themselves, “Yep, that's all very well, but one day, my friend, you'll realize you've got it all wrong”. I am reminded of a discussion programme I recently saw on TV that had gathered together various religious leaders, which included amongst others, a Catholic Priest, a Muslim Imam, an Anglican female Vicar and a gay Priest, to discuss the role of religion, in front of a very vocal audience which included people from many other faiths also. Quite a debate ensued - “The Bible is the truth!”, “No! The Koran is the only way”, “U-uh, I think you'll find Hinduism pre-dates both of your books!”. And so it went on, and on. Eventually, the host (ironically, Terry Christian) calmed everyone down and went over to the end of the guests row to the guy who, through all the arguing, had sat very quietly. “You're an atheist,” said Terry,”what are your thoughts on what's been said so far?”.
He looked up to the host and very calmly said, “Well, I came here fully expecting a fight. I just had no idea that I wasn't going to be involved.” Brilliant.
I'm hoping that I don't give the impression that I'm Mr Grumpy-Pants just because I don't have a faith in my life, and I'd also hope that those that know me will vouch that generally I'm pretty happy with my lot in life – I consider myself very lucky. The reason I mention this is that as part of agreeing to share my atheist thoughts on theistic music, I was also asked to share my journey from agnostic to atheist as a result of the “Christianity Explored” Bible study group.
In truth, I was already an atheist, and had been for a long time. I have vague memories of saying my prayers at night up until I was maybe six or seven, but pretty soon I realised that either I was talking to myself, or He didn't much care for my problems – my dog didn't come back to life, the pretty girl at school still didn't love me, and West Brom were relegated again. So I managed to continue through life completely indifferent to religion, and yes, when I joined the cub scouts I did “promise to do my duty, to God and to the Queen”, but I didn't mean it. I just held on to one of the other promises - “I will do my best”.
To me, some people were religious, and some people weren't. It was all fine by me, whatever it took to float your boat (or Ark). This all changed when I met the girl who was to become my wife. As mentioned earlier, Wana is a committed Christian, it's part of who she is and the way
she is – and I love her.
Last year, Wana asked me if I would attend a bible study group that was being run by a couple from her church one evening a week for ten weeks. Oh. Initially I gave a flat “No thank you”, but she managed to change my mind with a subtle blend of constant pestering and the eventual promise that if, at the end of the course, I still couldn't see the point of it, she would never ask me to do anything like it again. My agreement also came with a condition from me; that she wasn't allowed to be angry with me for asking any awkward questions.
I hate fights. Always have. Confrontations get my insides into complete knots. So each Wednesday evening I could feel myself getting tense on the journey to the house where the meetings were held, then on the drive home I'd wonder what on earth I'd been so bothered about. The truth is, in general, I had a great time. The hosts were wonderful, they were open to my views, there was always some good banter between myself and the other seven attendees, and I couldn't fail to be impressed by some of the mental acrobatics used to try to answer some of the questions I had. A short DVD would be shown to us at the start of each session, where the presenter would usually recount something about his life and then relate it to something in the stories of Jesus or a section in the Bible explaining what God expects of us.
Week one was a cracker, it went something like this – The DVD began by showing us some sights of absolute wonder, from sunsets, waterfalls, snow topped mountains and newborn lambs playing in the dewy Spring morning, to rainbows, pretty flowers and migrating wildebeest on the African plains. Wow! Then on came the presenter to explain that all this was happening because of God.
Here goes, I thought. “Why then”, I asked, “didn't the footage then go onto plane crashes, disease, famine, earthquakes, tsunamis, or maybe even a child dying with a brain tumour (a friend of mine had just lost her three year old son to this awful illness).
The presenter could then go on to say “Oh yes, God is also responsible for all of this”?.
I never got a straight answer to any of my questions, always just a riddle, or “it was all part of God's plan”. Planning's not his strong point then. There was, however, one occasion when I asked why China had been struck by those devastating earthquakes, and the answer one guy gave me was that “they must have been sinners and so deserved to die”.
Mind you, he was the same guy who, at one meeting, announced that he'd read in the paper that a scientist had proved the existence of God. This was big news, world news, and I wondered why I hadn't heard or seen anything about it on the radio or TV. I inquired which newspaper I should buy on the way home even though, surely, they must be sold out now. It transpired, however, that it was a story in the “Good News” newspaper that gets handed out at church. That would explain it, he'd read it in the “religious man's Sunday Sport”.
I was always amazed at how, for some, the Bible, this immovable object, this truth, this word of God, suddenly became really flexible when faced with science. They would say things like -
“yes, I know it says seven days, but a day was probably the same as a thousand years back then”. Really? So why wasn't it so flexible before the boffins worked out that it couldn't possibly be true? Why were people being tortured for questioning it? How much of the rest of it is open to interpretation?
I'll be honest, I did become rather all consumed with finding out more and more ways to pick holes in faith and in the Bible, reading all sorts of books and scouring the internet for articles by like-minded people. I even thought, secretly, that once the people at these meetings had heard my concrete reasoning, that they would see that I was right all along. They didn't. I was the daft one for thinking that they would. I had to concede that logic and faith aren't even in the same room together, so they're never going to meet head to head. Science looks at the Bible, or indeed any of the Holy books, and it concentrates on the gaps. Faith fills the gaps in. I'm still with the scientists on this but I figure that's OK.
With all this research I was doing there was one thing I did figure out about myself. I found out that an atheist isn't someone who doesn't believe in God, but rather someone who doesn't believe a god. So, to a Hindu, a Christian is an atheist and vice-versa. Of course, this meant that I was going to these Bible study evenings with a whole group of atheists – the only difference being that I believed in one less god than they did. So what did that make me? Well, it turns out that I must be a Humanist, believing in the ability to lead a moral life without a deity or ancient scriptures. So now I find I've got a label too! How did that happen? When I first met Wana, she asked me if I believed in God. My answer was “No, but I do believe in good”.
I can feel a song coming on! Join in if you know the words -
“I'm an ape man, I'm an ape, ape man
Oh, I'm an ape man...