It bothers me to think that young atheists would be harassed by anyone, especially Christians. If that is why they need to go to "Atheist Camp" in the summer, it is a sad commentary.
Also, if young atheists don't want to say the Pledge of Allegiance, that is fine, too. I do wonder at people like a scientist at the Smithsonian who emailed a colleague that his son says "One nation under dog," instead of "under God." Can't he just leave it out, or leave the whole thing out?
So, if you know any young person who is intolerant of someone who is an atheist, help him or her to reconsider their attitude.
Of course, our experience is that young atheists are not intolerant of people of faith. But old atheists certainly are.
Atheists believe summer camp is just right for them
Tuesday, July 3, 2007
By Ron Grossman
Chicago Tribune
CLARKSVILLE, Ohio — At the same time youngsters at Bible camps across the nation are reciting "Now I lay me down to sleep; I pray the Lord my soul to keep," kids at Camp Quest are climbing into their bunks, confident there is no one out there to hear those prayers.
Proudly proclaiming the motto "Beyond Belief," Camp Quest bills itself as the nation's first sleep-away summer camp for atheists. Founded in 1996, it has inspired four similar camps across the nation for children whose parents are either opposed or indifferent to religion.
Much of what goes on here, amid the cornfields of southwestern Ohio, is little different from any other camp. Campers canoe, practice archery skills and go on nature hikes.
They also engage in some unusual rainy-day discussions of philosophical issues. Children who barely come up to an adult's waist toss around terms like "circular logic." And those nature hikes focus on the beauty of evolution, unaided by any unseen hand.
Atheism has been experiencing a revival. Some national surveys show the numbers of nonbelievers growing.
Books critical of religion are best sellers. Biologist Richard Dawkins argued in "The God Delusion" that religion is just that. Faith as the source of all evil was explored with burning passion by Christopher Hitchens in "God is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything."
But more than a training ground for a movement, Camp Quest is a place to set down the burden of being different.
Children who grow up in Christian households have the emotional security of being in the nation's majority. Many members of religious minorities have similarly minded friends and relatives.
But coming from a family that does not believe in God sometimes sets a child on a lonely road.
Frieda Lindroth, a first-year camper, recognized that on her first day at Camp Quest.
" 'Wow!' I said to myself, 'I'm not alone,' " recalls Lindroth, 12. She says she's been an atheist since the second grade.
For its inaugural season, Camp Quest drew 20 campers. This year, it enrolled 47 young people, ranging from 8 to 17 years old, for its weeklong session at a campground rented from a 4-H group. About 100 others will attend Quest's daughter camps in Michigan, Minnesota, California and Ontario, Canada.
A Harris Interactive survey in 2003 found that 9 percent of Americans don't believe in God, while an additional 12 percent are uncertain about the issue.
Edward Kagin and his wife, Helen, founded Camp Quest out of frustration with what they saw as a forced march to theocracy. His father was a minister in a family line of Presbyterian clergy tracing back to John Knox, the Scottish reformer.
"But I went to college and started reading books my father had preached against," said Kagin, 66.
"We wanted a camp not to preach there is no God, but as a place where children could learn it's OK not to believe in God," he said.
Many Camp Questers have wrestled with that issue on their own, among them Sophia Riehemann, a ninth-year camper. She long avoided the words "under God" during the recitation of the Pledge of Allegiance at school.
"This year, I stopped getting up and saying the pledge," said Riehemann, 16, who, like other campers, says that constantly negotiating with the world of believers is taxing. "Here at camp, that little barrier is finally down."
Like many campers, Riehemann comes from a home that stresses a scientific explanation of reality in place of the biblical account.
Some campers said declaring their lack of religious belief was a painful experience. Like gay people, they call it "coming out."
Allison Page, 9, read a book of Bible stories and decided they "were just silly." When her classmates found that out, they called her names and threatened her. That prompted her parents to home-school Allison. They sent her to camp so she would have summertime playmates, at least.
Sheridan Scott, 10, encountered hostility on the front lines of atheist activism. He and his mother are part of a group of Florida atheists that raises the banner for nonbelief in public places.
"As a hobby," he explained. "But some people are so hostile, yelling at us: 'You will go to hell.' "
At mealtime discussions, campers debate questions such as, "Would the world be better off without religion?"
Many of the young people come to more measured conclusions than authors Dawson and Hitchens, acknowledging that religion has some virtues, such as providing some people a sense of community.
But at the final campfire, it was obvious how most Camp Questers come down on the question of belief. The young people giggled and laughed through skits and songs, savoring for one last moment being just one of the gang.
For the concluding act, Edwin Kagen stood in front of the crackling flames, pounding an oversized walking stick worthy of a biblical prophet. He broadly impersonated an evangelical preacher, exhorting his congregation to believe in the unseen.
"Who needs proof, if we have faith?" he asked.
All around the campfire, young hands went up.