 In periods of great stress or grief, many people rely on spiritual strength, a sense of purpose which does not arrive from a purely logical, objective view of existence. I have no problem with that, it doesn't even have to be a supernatural belief or a personal creator god. You could believe in a sense of purpose or the continuity of our species or whatever gives you comfort. What I'm talking about in this video is that when given the choice between trusting the life of a loved one to the care of a doctor or to the care of a religious figure, I think most of us would prefer modern medicine to prayer. I say most because for some, faith takes precedence over health and suffering. And this is where belief can do great harm. A 1998 paper in the medical journal Pediatrics reported a total of 172 children in the US between 1975 and 1995 that have died as a result of religiously withheld medical care. 140 of those would have had a greater than 90% chance of survival. These were needless deaths caused by loving parents who were thought to be mentally competent. I'm thankful the number of reported cases is so low, but how can we justify the pain and death of any innocent child? Richard Dawkins made a statement that religion is a form of child abuse. By that he meant that the labeling of a child for the religious belief of the parents sets them apart, categorizes them in a way that is ridiculous, a Muslim child, a Christian child. But in a more concrete way, religion can be child abuse in the form of faith-based medical neglect. I'll give you my own personal story. My grandmother, who recently passed away, was a Christian scientist. My dad's brother, my uncle, was also a Christian scientist. Christian science, for those of you unfamiliar with the beliefs, rejects physical medicine in favor of faith healing by prayer. My uncle died slowly and painfully from the symptoms of what we assume was late-stage AIDS. We'll never know because he refused conventional diagnosis and treatment. He only hurt himself in some ways, but he denied his family a chance to be with him a little longer. My grandmother, no doubt, thought that it was his failure of faith that led to his death. But that's an adult making a decision for himself. What about those 172 children sacrificed to God? Some were treated by Christian science practitioners, or by Catholic exorcisms, or by Gospel or Baptist revivalist faith healers. I haven't even gotten into the issue of transfusions for Jehovah's Witnesses, or ritualized sexual abuse by many faiths, genital mutilation. In each case, the belief is supported by the believer as a matter of religious doctrine or scriptural law. I would ask, how can a parent put their religious doctrines above the health of their child? What possible force could cause you to make that decision? But that's not the whole story, is it? What about the question that flickers through the mind of the parent? How can I be true to my beliefs if I abandon them when the stakes are raised? How can I call myself a true believer if I refuse to put my faith in God just because my child's life is on the line? This is the example we're given in the Bible. Abraham is ready to sacrifice Isaac as a sign of faith. It's only at the last minute that an angel is dispatched to substitute a ram for his son. Modern theologians shrink back from this by reinterpreting the story and framing it from a modern sensibility. But I think it's a mint as an example of what obedience to God really means. It says you must put faith above personal morality, above your parental instinct. I think that's precisely what the story is meant to convey. And that's one reason I just can't accept that the Bible is an absolute moral authority. I may be willing to accept the existence of a God, but I won't worship this God. And I'm not willing to excuse the behavior of others who let their children die for the faith of the parents. If that's what Christianity requires, I want no part of it. I will not have the blood of Isaac and all those innocent children on my hands. I'm reminded of a story I read as a boy, The Ones Who Walk Away From Omelos by Ursula K. Le Guin. I hope those of you who have never read it will take a moment to click on the link. It's a short story, but very impactful. She describes a perfect city and a perfect society called Omelos, filled with hope, joy, poignancy, poetry, science, and sport, magnificent people down to earth and treasuring each moment of their wonderful lives. No area of culture is neglected, and every occupation brings joy. In this society, each person is taken in their youth to the basement of a small building, where there's a broom closet containing a filthy, ragged, malnourished, and mentally retarded child who has kept locked in darkness and never given love or care. Somehow knowing that the child exists in misery is what makes their society possible. The beauty of their poetry, the passion of their love, the joy at life that they experience all are the result of the lesson they learn from that poor child in the broom closet. I'd like to directly quote the last two paragraphs from the story. At times one of the adolescent girls or boys who go see the child does not go home to weep or rage, does not in fact go home at all. Sometimes also a man or a woman, much older, falls silent for a day or two, then leaves home. These people go out into the street and walk down the street alone. They keep walking and walk straight out of the city of Omelos through the beautiful gates. They keep walking across the farmlands of Omelos. Each one goes alone, youth or girl, man or woman. Night falls, the traveler must pass down village streets between the houses with yellowed windows, and on out into the darkness of the fields. Each alone they go west or north towards the mountains. They go on. They leave Omelos, they walk ahead into the darkness, and they do not come back. The place they go towards is a place even less imaginable to most of us than the city of happiness. I cannot describe it at all. It is possible that it does not exist, but they seem to know where they are going, the ones who walk away from Omelos.