The room fell deathly silent as she spoke. "Being religious is not cowardice," she emphasized.

We were sitting in a discussion group meeting of the Humanists of Utah, discussing the roots of humanism. My friend, disillusioned with religion and therefore curious about humanism, had grown more and more frustrated as first one religion, then another, was knocked in straw man fashion: Being religious is the coward's way out. She waited, and finally she could stand it no longer: "Being religious is not cowardice."

The words were a new relaxation of thought for me. For years, I have debated what it was to be religious, especially when relating to humanism. Humanism has always taken a view of "nontheism," a seemingly careful word stating its disassociation from theism: careful in respect of not necessarily wanting to declare an atheist (nonbelief in God) attitude, but wanting to make clear its concern with the belief in God. To say it bluntly, humanists are skeptical, often cynical, of any supernatural claim, and rightly so. This has lead to much concern, therefore, with "religion."

Religion in the Western world is most often associated with Christianity. Much of the Renaissance and modernistic thought has stemmed from concerns with Christian dogma, fundamentalism, and the historic Crusades. Christianity, in the actions of her church, has clearly shown more of a detriment to society than anything positive and beneficial.

But is religion just Christianity? What of Buddhism, Confucianism, Taoism, or the Pagan belief of the ancient days? But more than just these belief systems, what of the organizations that use these belief systems as their basis?

It seems clearly, that in humanism, the concern has not been with religion as a whole, or the belief systems, but with the negative actions that stem from parts of these belief systems. Dogma erupts, and instead of an evolution of beliefs, and adaptation to new, scientifically verified, information, people cling to outdated, erroneous, belief systems, that, though they may have worked sufficiently in years past, fail miserably in the present.

The concern, therefore, becomes "Does religion focus on human beings, and the most efficient method to solve problems?" The answer increasingly has been no. The nature of humanism, and its moral focus on human beings, is the hope of today, and a focus for our directions tomorrow.

Because of this, the original signers of the first Humanist Manifesto stated: "Religions the world over are under the necessity of coming to terms with new conditions created by a vastly increased knowledge and experience. In every field of human activity, the vital movement is now in the direction of a candid and explicit humanism. In order that religious humanism may be better understood we, the undersigned, desire to make certain affirmations which we believe the facts of our contemporary life demonstrate."

Case in point: They talked of religious humanism.

The concern, as expressed in the first Manifesto: "There is great danger of a final, and we believe fatal, identification of the word religion with doctrines and methods which have lost their significance and which are powerless to solve the problem of human living in the Twentieth Century."

The concern is not fundamentally with the term "religion," but with "doctrines and methods which have lost their significance." I think the dogmatic rejection of the belief in God does this as does any other outdated religious belief. Humanism needs to move beyond its petty struggles of cynical realism, and move to the affirmation of human life in this world.

This does not mean letting go the ethic of nontheism that is so crucial to focusing on this mortal, mundane, life. It does mean focusing on the greater good. Religion, historically, has always strived towards this. Being "religious" is a description of our great moral senses, and of our yearning to strive for betterment.

In the words of Edward O. Wilson, prominent biological scientist, humanist, and two-time Pulitzer Prize winner:

".I had no desire to purge my religious feelings. They were bred in me; they suffused the wellsprings of my creative life. I also retained a small measure of common sense. To wit, people must belong to a tribe; they yearn to have a purpose larger than themselves. We are obliged by the deepest drives of the human spirit to make ourselves more than animated dust, and we must have a story to tell about where we came from, and why we are here. Could Holy Writ be just the first literate attempt to explain the universe and make ourselves significant within it? Perhaps science is a continuation on new and better-tested ground to attain the same end. If so, then in that sense science is religion liberated and writ large." (Consilience, Edward O. Wilson)

The desire to reach beyond the sky is at the heart of religion and the heart of humanism: a common bond that humanism needs to associate with, not pull away from. Instead of denying "religion," humanism exists to not just redefine religion, but to help see what religion really is, and therefore, who we as individuals, and as a human society, really are.

As Dr. Wilson so adroitly stated, "The moral imperative of humanism is the endeavor alone, whether successful or not, provided the effort is honorable and failure memorable." Therefore, the endeavor is intrinsically religious.

Humanism is the religious endeavor that fights down the cowardice towards change, towards action, and towards objective, freethought. Humanism is religious courage.

--David Evans