This is an archived article that was published on sltrib.com in 2010, and information in the article may be outdated. It is provided only for personal research purposes and may not be reprinted.
In his Dec. 23 column, columnist Cal Thomas posed the question: What if the "Christmas story" is true? While I do not imagine Mr. Thomas will ever read my response to his challenge to consider this question, I would be surprised to learn that he has ever approached it from my perspective.
I have considered the Christ myth. And reconsidered it. And reconsidered my reconsiderations. Growing up in modern Western culture, and Utah in particular, how could I not? In the end, I confess without hesitation nor the slightest pangs of conscience that you may as well call me an atheist.
I do not profess to know with absolute certainty that there is no higher power, intelligence, or meaningfulness which might reasonably be labeled "God" in some sense or another. I simply find no compelling reason to believe that such an entity actually exists, or is even necessary.
With respect to this generic proposition of higher existence, I fall into the category of fallibilistic atheism: I strongly doubt, but acknowledge that I may be wrong. But I strongly doubt that, too. With respect to the "God" described in the Bible, however, I am 99.9 repetend percent convinced that such a being does not exist.
Through many periods of my life, I have honestly tried to believe. As a child, I attended Sunday services and primary classes regularly, being baptized in the LDS Church at the discerning age of 8. By the age of 10, questions and doubts were already forming in my mind. I would not say that I was losing faith; rather I was questioning the "knowledge" I had been force-fed practically from birth, with growing discomfort at the bad taste it left in my mouth. That is, I never made the transition from accepted "knowledge" to convicted faith.
I probably believed more firmly and enduringly in Santa Claus than in God or Jesus — and the notion of a "holy ghost" simply never made sense to me. Still, I would try to return to the flock, so to speak, on at least half a dozen occasions, attending various churches, reading their texts and listening to their sermons with sincere open-mindedness.
All to no avail. In the end, I am convinced that I simply lack capacity for this kind of faith.
Rather late in life, I have come to understand that there may be an innate, even physiological reason for this. Like the renowned Washington Post music critic Tim Page, who wrote about growing up with undiagnosed Asperger's Syndrome in his book Parallel Play, I learned at the age of 45 that I too have lived my life with this form of high-functioning autism. While much research needs to be done, there seems to be a high correlation between Asperger's and agnosticism.
This is not to say that all "aspies" are agnostic, but merely that there may be a higher incidence of non-belief among this group, as compared to the general population. Certainly, one should not ignore the implications of the social disconnectedness experienced by autistics in relation to the huge social component residing at the core of most religions. Indeed, it was my enduring desire to feel more connected to others that compelled me to keep trying to believe. In any case, I am one example of an aspie who repeatedly tried and failed.
So what if the Christmas story is true? Are people like myself, incapable of the kind of faith required to accomplish belief in such a fantastical tale, simply condemned from birth? "O Lord," I might complain, "why hast thou forsaken me?" As the colloquial saying goes, "I could complain, but I doubt anyone would listen."
Likewise, if I believed Cal Thomas might actually read this response to his piece of Pascalian evangelism, I might ask, "What if I'm truly incapable of believing it?"
Robert Hammer is a manager of revenue cycle analytics at a Salt Lake City-based health care company.