Studying Abroad: ‘Encountering God as an Atheist’ | Features | valpotorch.com – The Torch

As I stood under the intricately painted ceiling of the San Ignacio cathedral in Rome, I had to fight to prevent my breath from being taken away by the grandeur. The ceilings were high enough that the temperature on the ground floor was cold enough to bring goosebumps. Beyond the mild physical discomfort required to view such magnificence, though, the work seemed to defy words. Painted by Andrea Pozzo in 1685, the humans staring down from the painting featured anatomically correct veins and tendons which could be viewed from the ground, likely one hundred feet away. The plants and animals were so intricate that you could make out a single blade of grass or hair. And, if you positioned yourself in the very center of the room, the painting suddenly burst to life. The two-dimensional work popped right off of the ceiling; it felt as though you could reach out and grasp the hands of the figures depicted there. In an instant, I was lifted off of that floor and transported into a heavenly canvas full of clouds and warm, golden light.

I was privileged enough to feel such a visceral reaction to this Baroque work while I studied abroad in Italy this past Winter Break. While the trip was full of wonderful food, community and natural beauty, the purpose of our time was to study medieval art. We traveled across the country, starting in Orvieto, then to Sienna, Florence and finally Rome. My first observation, as is many peoples when going to Europe for the first time, was the emphasis on walkable cities and aesthetic beauty. Superhighways and skyscrapers are replaced with wide cobblestone streets bustling with people and brilliantly colored buildings with intricately carved facades. Despite hardly speaking the language of those around me, I could tell that their lives revolved around building and sustaining fulfilling relationships with one another, unlike the business-oriented, fast-paced lifestyles that we in the U.S. abide by.

Now seems like the appropriate time to inform you that I am a pretty run-of-the-mill person. I am an able-bodied, middle-class white man from a small town in the midwest, so cross-cultural engagement wasn't readily available to me until I came to Valparaiso University. While I have worked hard in my classes and extracurriculars to empathize with and understand different cultures, religions and backgrounds beyond my own, my time in Italy provided me with a new and unexpected means of cross-cultural communication: that between religious and non-religious people.

I was raised Catholic, received the sacraments from Baptism to Confirmation, but grew away from the faith shortly before coming to college, where I would finally come to terms with my atheism. I am not an anomaly in this instance; the number of people who identify as Christian has been steadily dropping in the U.S. A Pew Research Poll, from 2019, found that less than 50% of Americans age 18-29 call themselves Christians, and are choosing instead to identify as agnostic, atheist or spiritually undecided. To be as frank as possible, I am not saying that this is an inherently positive or negative matter; rather it further highlights the importance of not only interreligious dialogue, but also that between the religious and the secular.

In Italy, I got a brief taste of this. I was the only openly atheist individual in my class of about nineteen students. However, unlike the polarized discourse we see in the modern political sphere, our conversations were patient and pleasant. Many nights, a group of students and I would go out to the local cafes or wine bars, split a bottle of the regional white wine of Orvieto (which is far better than Winking Owl) and talk about life. We shared our stories and laid out the details and events that we think made us who we are today. We were all shocked by what we found: unity. Many of us had experienced indescribable loss, crippling uncertainty and immeasurable happiness. For myself, I explained how I thought my life led me to become an atheist, and my friends respected and understood. Then, upon learning more about their lives, I gleaned a similar insight into their relationship to faith. We had all lived, or at least attempted to live, a fulfilling human experience in the short 18-22 years that we had had thus far. We only differed (and not substantially at that) in our motivations for waking up and doing it again.

I do not feel the divine presence in cathedrals like San Ignacio like others may. That is not to say, however, that I feel nothing at all. The peace, humility and joy that others receive through prayer and presence in such a space was present in me as well. When I walk into those cathedrals, I think of the stories and the lives of those who built them. Each of these long passed people, from the painters, to the priest, to the bricklayers, had full and nuanced lives like us. Yet, they were united by the common goal of glorifying God to construct a marvel that often transcends the capabilities of our language. Thus, the question becomes how can we achieve beauty, or at the very least some unity, without a clear, common goal? I will not claim to have the answer to this question, but I can say that I am learning to see unity. While those in the Medieval age who built the cathedrals, as well as billions of their descendants today, see religion as a source and motivation to pursue meaningful connections with others, I derive those feelings from the nuance of others' lives and from complicated beauty of the human condition: the one thing in this one life that we all share.

The views expressed are those of the writer and do not necessarily reflect those of The Torch.

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Studying Abroad: 'Encountering God as an Atheist' | Features | valpotorch.com - The Torch