I sometimes say that I live in a mixed marriage: I'm an Episcopalian and my sweetie is a gardener. That joke is a light-hearted way to express a reality. My sweetie was an atheist when we met, and is still, and I was a Christian when we met, and am still. On this Valentine's day I'd like to share a few glimpses of those decades together. First, people here enjoy hearing happy stories. More broadly, perhaps some of the ways that we have found to live together may suggest strategies for how all of us here at Daily Kos can more than merely tolerate but actually enjoy each other in our diversity.
We met and married in our early thirties. We shared many things: we both had advanced degrees in a life science, we both were attracted to gardening (though he was much more experienced), we both enjoyed the outdoors and eating croissants, we both loved language and jokes. We both had midwestern parents, though we both grew up on the coasts (he on the west, I on the east). We both were unusual among our siblings in that we had gone to a preschool and to two final years of private high school.
There were differences too, of course. I don't remember when the question of religion rose, but it didn't leave a significant dent when it did. Tall Papa programs with flexibiity and deftness, using LaTex for his grants and LAMP to run a myriad of programs. I grow and dry herbs and vegetables for our cooking. He is more active, both spontaneously and as a matter of discipline, though I've joined in along the way. He's patient with my more limited physical strength. I am more social, and arrange most of our social engagements, though he enjoys them when we have guests.
Together we've raised two children to adulthood. Together we've passed through the tenure mill (sequentially). Together we have redecorated not one, but two, kitchens. Together we've seen National Parks from Isle Royale to Zion.
So how has that religion/atheism thing fit into all those years? Looking back I see several of the ways we have found to live amiably together.
Appreciating our different strengths
We do have different strengths (as well as some shared ones) and we are quick to appreciate those. Tall Papa will likely always be a far better programmer than I am, and that is something to relish and admire.
Enjoying our shared tastes
Not everyone would enjoy waking up with snow beside their sleeping bags in the Grand Tetons, but we did. Not everyone enjoys biking ten miles for lunch, but we do. Not everyone delights in a front yard vegetable garden, but we do.
Learning from each other
I have learned far more about electronics and programming than I had before I met Tall Papa, and think it unlikely that I would have without him. On the other hand, the various bit and pieces of church history and theology Tall Papa has picked up over the years have been very handy in the New York Times crossword.
Quantification
Some statements are true with quantification, but false without it. Tall Papa has a brother who was close to him when they were young but who fell in with a fundamentalist church as a young adult. This led to some estrangement, partly from beliefs that were incredible to Tall Papa (6000 year old earth? Really? From someone with a Stanford engineering degree?) and some of it from the avid connections that brother made to his church. In our early years I occasionally asked Tall Papa to quantify his statements. If he said, "Stupid Christians! How can they doubt evolution?" I would ask him, "Could you say "fundamentalist Christians? Because I'm a Christian, and I know that evolution happened and shaped our world."
Epistemic humility
Both of us believe that what we believe is true; that's why we believe it. But we both also know that we may be wrong. Given that, and trusting as we do that the other is acting in good faith, we feel no compulsion to force agreement when none arises so far. There is also a measure of personal engagement that springs from some mysterious well. At one point in my studies, I thought certain things were so well established in history that they might be a point of agreement. I walked point by point with Tall Papa, who agreed with one point after another. At the end, I asked him, "And, so,……?" He looked at me with gentle dismay and said, "But sweetie, it just doesn't matter to me." There are roots to truth that are deeper than reason, and prior to it.
Standing on common ground
Some fundamentals we share. My tradition says, "Love your neighbor as yourself," but there are many secular formulations of the
ethic of reciprocity as well. As we share this underlying principle, we agree on a great deal.
I will leave applying some or all of these to our common life here at Daily Kos as an exercise for the reader. In the meanwhile, feel free to enjoy some of Tall Papa's garden, including the blueberries, or our RAGBRAI ride.