We have now arrived at Bart’s chapter called “Life on the Other Side: The Happy Reality of Secular Humanism.” There’s quite a bit of material to unpack, engage, and be engaged by in this chapter, so let’s see how this goes. It may take three or four blogs to encapsulate my salient responses and reflections.

He begins by talking about the time, after losing his faith, during which he ran into plenty of other post-Christians who had left behind the “friendly confines” of their former orthodoxy. Just a small point about this: when I was in graduate school at a state university, religious convictions hardly always conduced to a friendly environment. I rather felt like my faith was under fire every day from certain zealous secular professors who took every opportunity to impugn the intelligence of religious believers and from certain fellow graduate students who relished emulating those professors.

I was studying philosophy, a field in which quite a bit of intellectual jousting takes place all the time, and learning the tools to engage unfriendly audiences with discussions about faith and its alleged irrationality took place in a rather hostile environment. It could sometimes be profoundly uncomfortable. In fact, I know several folks who kept their religious convictions under their hat to avoid finding themselves in the cross hairs of outspoken secularists, and others who abandoned faith altogether in the hotbed of graduate philosophy programs.

I make mention of all this just as a small observation. It may well be that atheists in the larger culture do have to endure challenges to be seen as normal and healthy, but there are also plenty of enclaves in which secularism enables people to feel like they fit in far more comfortably than they would if they espoused sincere religious conviction, whatever “friendly confines” the latter may have felt on Sunday mornings.

What many of these post-Christians told Bart they missed the most were the social dimensions of their religious experience—the music, the hymn sings, the potluck dinners, and the like. They encouraged Bart, knowing his background, to organize a church for people like them, “who want to be good and don’t believe in God.”

Bart endeavors to distance himself from angry, confrontational secularists and atheists, claiming no animus toward faith or people of faith. Indeed he writes, “I think Christianity has been one of the greatest community-building forces in human history.” So he claims it’s not his goal to trash the church, but rather to learn from it and offer a new and improved version of it, without the theological baggage, for people who genuinely want to be, again, good without God.

Not coincidentally, Greg Epstein’s Good without God was one of the most encouraging books Bart read through this time. Some months ago there was a bit of a dustup around Epstein when he, a secular humanist, was chosen to be the President of the Harvard chaplains. Christian chaplain Pete Williamson wrote a piece for Christianity Today defending his vote for Epstein and why it may not be as scandalous as many seemed to think when they heard it.

At any rate, Bart gives Greg’s book credit for introducing him to the logic and language of secular humanism, as well as opening his eyes to the possibility of engaging in the same vocation as a secular chaplain. After reading his book, Bart visited Greg to see his work firsthand and found students discussing cognitive science, vegetarianism, TED talks, racial politics, an upcoming LGBTQ solidarity march, and coming out to family. And in Greg Bart found a kindred spirit.

So Bart then reached out to USC to see what they thought of his idea of building missional communities for people who don’t believe in God, and they were open to the idea. Part of the reason for their openness was their definition of religion not in terms of specific belief systems, but rather as the quest to answer life’s ultimate questions. “What is the nature of the universe? Where do we come from and what happens when we die? What defines good and evil? How can we make the most of our lives?”

Allow me to say a word about this, and draw this entry to a close, saving the rest of this chapter for later. In Where the Conflict Really Lies, Alvin Plantinga writes this concerning naturalism (which entails atheism):

Naturalism is what we could call a worldview, a sort of total way of looking at ourselves and our world. It isn’t clearly a religion: the term “religion” is vague, and naturalism falls into the vague area of its application. Still, naturalism plays many of the same roles as a religion. In particular, it gives answers to the great human questions: Is there such a person as God? How should we live? Can we look forward to life after death? What is our place in the universe? How are we related to other creatures? Naturalism gives answers here: there is no God, and it makes no sense to hope for life after death. As to our place in the grand scheme of things, we human beings are just another animal with a peculiar way of making a living. Naturalism isn’t clearly a religion; but since it plays some of the same roles as a religion, we could properly call it a quasi-religion.

I’m inclined to agree with Plantinga here, which is why something like a “secular chaplain” makes more than a little sense to me. At the least I don’t think we can have it both ways and insist both that atheism is a religion and that secular chaplains make no sense.

So Bart came aboard at USC as a secular chaplain, though he would have to raise his own funds, and started his new career, addressing the communal needs of USC’s rapidly growing secular population. Practically speaking, he does much of what he used to do when he was a Christian minister, and much of what other university chaplains do—showing up at campus events, speaking in classes and dorms, hosting community gatherings, and encouraging and supporting students’ and professors’ “spiritual growth.” If that seems a bit odd, tune in next time for more.

David Baggett is professor of philosophy and director of The Center for the Foundations of Ethics at Houston Baptist University. Author or editor of about fifteen books, he’s a two-time winner of Christianity Today book awards. He’s currently under contract for his fourth and fifth books with Oxford University Press: a book on moral realism with Jerry Walls, and a collection on the moral argument with Yale’s John Hare.