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At the Shimpoli Cricket Ground in Mumbai's Borivali suburb, all signs point to a grand celebration. A gushing fountain draws in restless children, flowers adorn every pillar and devotional music spills from a large shamiana where 16 men and women aged 14-45 are set to take diksha, or an oath of renunciation. Ten are under the age of 30.

These include financially-secure professionals and promising students, including 29-year-old Sanket Parekh, the biggest media draw, a graduate from the Indian Institute of Technology, Bombay, and self-confessed atheist, who revealed he paid Rs12 lakh in annual income tax; Sneha Kataria from Bengaluru, an investment banker with Goldman Sachs; Viral Dedhia, a biochemistry postgraduate, and 18-year-old twin sisters Khyati and Khushboo Dedhia, who are accompanied by their mother, Kritika. These "pathfinders" will give up every material comfort for a life of severe hardship-Jain asceticism is considered more severe than other religions like Buddhism.

Thousands of members of the Jain community are in attendance, including 64-year-old Hemant Shah, a newly retired businessman from Canada who has flown in to oversee the logistics. Shah closely assists Acharya Yugbhushan Suri Maharaj (known as Pandit Maharaj), the presiding guru at the ceremony, and also doubles up as a media representative. "You've come just in time, the most important part is about to begin," he says, his booming voice carrying easily over the music as he leads me towards a carpeted wing of the shamiana, a VIP section of sorts. We pass disgruntled men-the genders are strictly divided, my presence unwelcome-but Shah reassures them and swiftly walks me across the stage, where religious proceedings are under way, to the section where the women have gathered.

Here my presence barely registers. These mothers, aunts, cousins and family friends will not tear away their gaze from the stage for a second. Their loved ones are celebrities today, as evinced by the blown-up portraits tethered to the tented walls, and they command the attention of every audience member, press photographer and camera drone.

The familial ties that bind these people will hold for only a few more hours. The closest kin are called forward to strip the renunciants of worldly possessions-each piece of jewellery is removed and tucked away. Not a single face betrays nerves or reluctance. There are only loose, uncontained grins.

These future monks and nuns leave the stage, trailed closely by family members, who will now perform the final ceremonial rites. In this hour-long interval, the diksharthis will be shaved and showered (for the last time, they are only allowed to sponge their bodies hereafter) while those in attendance will settle down for a vegetarian breakfast feast, again with segregated seating for both genders. Meanwhile, on stage, an emcee encourages the crowd to participate in a spirited round of money-raising-families donate lakhs of rupees to fund future religious ceremonies. Shah says the one I am attending cost a few crores.

When the diksharthis return to the stage, via an elevated ramp, the audience leaps up in excitement; they have to be coerced to return to their seats. Flower petals are showered on these stoic, tonsured white figures as they move forward to take the vows of renunciation and assume their new identities. The possessions allowed in their new lives are lined up in a corner of the stage: a duster, a bowl, a white square of cloth to sit on, and a walking stick. Pandit Maharaj confers each with a new title, marking a fresh start, and in the process erasing the identities they have held from birth. Jain monks don't retire to mountain-top monasteries. Going forward, they will travel across cities by foot, except during the monsoon months, pluck their hair out strand by strand-a painful and controversial exercise called kaya klesh-and scavenge for food.

One of the younger female monks gives in to a yawn; it's been a long morning.

*****

The Jain community is divided into two broad sects: the Digambars, those who are clad in the sky (a poetic euphemism describing their practice of nudity), and the Svetambars, those who wear only white. The two groups share a core philosophy and adhere to the five basic vows, or mahavratas-non-violence (ahimsa), truth (satya), not stealing (achaurya), celibacy (brahmacharya) and detachment (aparigraha). A notable difference lies in how they view women. Digambars believe that a female must be reborn as a man to attain moksha, while women of the Svetambar sect are on equal spiritual footing with men. Moksha, freedom from endless reincarnations, is the ultimate goal of both sects. This is made possible through strict asceticism.

In India, news stories about the difficult choice of renunciation faced by Jains tend to highlight a newly ordained monk's educational, professional or financial background-the material life they have left behind. These have ranged from an IIT engineer and business tycoon to a class XII topper and a New York-based fashion retailer. Bipin Doshi, a Jain scholar at the University of Mumbai, argues that none of these cases is an anomaly; successful, career-driven Jains are commonplace, as are erudite monks. According to the 2011 census, the Jain community, which numbers around four million, also has the highest literacy rate in the country. A similar level of achievement, Doshi says, can be found in Swaminarayan monks. "They also have a number of cases where young, highly educated sadhus devote themselves to spiritual life-some are from Berkeley, some are from Oxford."

Though Jain monks hold no bank accounts, and never deal with money, their needs, Doshi says, are secured by implicit, informal insurance. "The Jain community is fairly resourceful and takes care of them," he says. "There is an organization called Jito (Jain International Trade Organization). They pay for any medical treatment that is required for a sadhu, any amount. It may be from a few thousands to a few lakhs or more. Jain sadhus don't have to bother about their livelihood or medical care."

There are around 16,000 Jain ascetics, according to Doshi. And the number of dikshas carried out each year is increasing. Doshi says barely one or two per cent return to regular life. The repercussions of such disavowals are purely spiritual, setting you back on the path to moksha. Of these 16,000, around 12,000 are sadhvis, or female monks. Women greatly outnumber the men, both at the diksha ceremony I attended, and in the community.
The agency of a 'sadhvi'
Manisha Sethi probes this unique aspect of Jainism in her book Escaping The World: Women Renouncers Among Jains, for which she undertook months of intensive fieldwork, documenting the lives of sadhvis in north India. "Jainism's unique insistence upon women as legitimate soteriological agents sets it apart from other models-such as the Brahmanical model which conceives of it as exclusively male, with the female representing that which has to be renounced (maya is figured as feminine)," she says on email.

During her interaction with these female monks, Sethi, a religious studies professor at Jamia Millia Islamia, found that many of them rationalized this skewed gender ratio as a by-product of female nature-komal, soft and empathetic and hence more suited for renunciation. But Sethi says there are other factors to consider. When a Jain woman renounces worldly pleasures, she is accorded "great honour", and gains agency she might rarely have found in her previous life.

"Becoming a nun is a sensible alternative to the uncertainties of marriage, which remains a deeply patriarchal institution among most Jains," Sethi says. "Renunciation allows a woman to carve out a zone of autonomy and agency. Instead of pursuing the housewifely ideal of stri-dharma, with its emphasis on placing first the needs of father, husband and son, a nun can pursue the spiritual ideal of atma-kalyan, and seek the betterment of her own soul. Further, as many monastic orders now allow women new opportunities to pursue higher education and to travel throughout India, renunciation offers opportunities that they may not have been able to pursue if they remained in the world with the strong familial expectations of marriage and motherhood." According to Sethi, work participation rates for Jain women are among the lowest in the country.

The Dedhia family, for instance, had four women take diksha at the ceremony in Borivali. Kritika Dedhia took the vow of renunciation with her daughters Khyati and Khushboo. "My wife had expressed the desire to take diksha earlier, but at that time our daughters were not settled. Being a housewife, she had a responsibility at home," says Kritika's husband, Ashok Dedhia, an advocate practising at the Bombay high court. "My daughters had taken a break from studies and were studying Jainism with Guruji (Pandit Maharaj). We asked them to then decide whether they wanted to pursue a professional career or a spiritual career. After staying at the Jain Upashray (accommodation for Jain monks) for eight months, they decided on the latter. In a way it is lonely now, but I am comparing this with a daughter's marriage, with time you adjust."

Ashok's brother Manoj Dedhia, also an advocate solicitor with the Bombay high court, says his 20-year-old-daughter, a law student, similarly expressed a desire for renunciation 20 days before the diksha ceremony. "It was a surprise but I was happy. She is going on the right path, and she will be able to handle it. Since her childhood, we have provided a (spiritual) atmosphere, and have been talking to various mahatmas. She was with Sahebji (another name for Pandit Maharaj) for the last year and a half, studying the principles of Jainism."

Ashok now plans to move in with his brother and parents, and I ask if he would ever consider going down the same path as his wife and daughters. His response is straightforward: "I don't have the courage."
The grand 'diksha' ceremony
The initiation and send-off of a future monk is a large-scale celebration, with multiple functions over three or more days during which they are feted as brides and kings. However, the pomp and expense of these affairs seems off-key, and in stark contrast with Jain principles of austerity. According to Doshi, diksha ceremonies have always adopted a celebratory tone because absolute renunciation is the highest possible achievement for a Jain. But the extra frills are a product of our times. "Weddings in earlier days were very different from weddings today," he says. "Similarly, the diksha ceremony has gradually changed over time."

In Jainism: A Guide For The Perplexed, Sherry Fohr, associate professor of religion at Converse College, addresses this peculiar duality: The varshi dan ceremony (a procession held the day before the diksha ceremony) "re-enacts the year in the life of the Tirthankar (Jina) in which, having decided to renounce the world, he travelled around his kingdom, giving away all of his vast riches". At religious ceremonies, it is not unusual for affluent Jains to make generous contributions, an altruistic act that promises karmic benefits. Fohr adds: "Although Jain doctrine prescribes renunciation of wealth to achieve moksha, contemporary Jain laymen instead tend to pursue wealth. This may seem paradoxical, contradictory, or even hypocritical to a non-Jain, but (...) this is because laymen must have wealth in order to be properly religious by devoting substantial portions of his wealth to religious giving."

Since Buddhism and Jainism share core values of non-violence and asceticism, they are often thought of as cousins. But according to K.T.S. Sarao, professor of Buddhist studies at the University of Delhi, Jainism-which adopts a fourfold religious order of monks, nuns, sravaks (male laypeople), and sravikas (female laypeople)-sees greater participation from its laity. "Broadly, the traditions are similar, but Buddhism only considers monks and nuns as members of the order, which is not the case in Jainism. Hence the religion has many loyal lay followers and the level of involvement is more serious with Jains. Perhaps this is why Jainism survived and Buddhism declined very badly (in the country)."

The converse also holds true, though for altogether different reasons. Unlike Buddhism, the constraints that Jain monks face-they cannot use vehicular transport and modern technology, for instance-have limited the religion's influence outside the country. This is changing with the sprouting of modern ascetic orders such as the Samans, founded by Acharya Tulsi in 1980. These monks follow a less severe model of renunciation in order to undertake and expound studies on Jainism.
Inside a jain 'upashray'
A week after the ceremony, I meet Pandit Maharaj-the guru who facilitated and blessed the 16 dikshas-at the Jain Upashray in Ghatkopar, Mumbai. Hemant Shah greets me outside the building with a bottle of water: "Drink this," he says. "We cannot consume water in front of him."

Inside, at the centre of a large, bare room swathed in dim late-evening light, Sahebji, as his disciples call him here, is reading a newspaper. A large wooden desk rests in front of him, an unmade stretcher bed to his right. I'm told a health condition requires him to lie down every few hours. Shah leads me to an empty chair. I'm suddenly aware of my all-black wardrobe and every rustle and rattle as I forage in my handbag, piercing the stillness of a room where every piece of fabric is white, every expression untroubled. I finally pull out a notebook and pen. My dictaphone has to be put aside; the use of electronic devices near ascetic monks is forbidden.

"We believe even electricity has life," says Sahebji. "Hence, being non-violent, we don't use it," he says, punctuating each sentence with a nod. "But we do not restrict those who have not taken diksha from using (technology). The Jain community is urbanized and highly educated. This is why, when they come into contact with religion, they are able to understand the logic behind it."

Naveen Khimji Mota in his former life, the 60-year-old took an early interest in religious studies. At 14, he dropped out of school to study various scriptures at Banaras Hindu University, before taking diksha at the age of 20. He maintains an interest in science and current affairs, slipping in terms like "fake news" and "post-truth" during our conversation. "It is our responsibility to guide society in a proper way. And (for that) we must keep up with current affairs," he says.

In 2009, he founded the youth-focused organization Jyot, which allows the community to engage with the new generation through active social media handles, live-streams of religious ceremonies and illustrated, shareable despatches on Jain philosophy. It has also produced films like Chal Man Jeetva Jaiye, an urban moral-based Gujarati drama, and holds annual on-ground events to increase spiritual awareness. Most successful among these was the Gyan Joyt Exhibition held in Ahmedabad in 2009, which was attended by more than a million people over 11 days, including the then-chief minister, Narendra Modi. I ask about the nature of the conversation Sahebji had with Modi and he smiles, saying, "Some religious matters, some politics." Jyot is guided by Pandit Maharaj's philosophy, though he never personally engages with a piece of technology, not even a mic. Shah tells me it took much persuasion to convince him to be filmed on camera at this year's diksha ceremony.

Pandit Maharaj outlines the realities of Jain asceticism with a half-smile, stressing that suffering is part of the deal, and it is not for everyone. "We are strict," he says. "So many times I have rejected a person who is not ready for this religion, though it is open to all castes and communities. They have to understand that detachment is important-we have nothing to offer materially, so anyone with those desires is not fit for this life."

Before taking the vow of renunciation, one generally lives as an understudy with a guru for one-three years. This period varies according to the person's age and ability, personal circumstance, and the ideology of each guru. An unresolved point of contention is the minimum age at which a person should be allowed to take diksha; Jain scriptures say it is permissible for anyone over the age of 8. "I do not give underage people permission (to take diksha)," Pandit Maharaj says. "Before one is of adult age, one cannot decide his or her immediate path. Very few are mature or have the strength or ability at a young age. But yes, the scripture allows bal diksha. A child also has the fundamental right-a right to religion-and it cannot be denied."

Both Doshi and Sethi confirm that a silent reformation is under way within the community, and gurus increasingly refuse young children permission to attain monkhood, making instances of bal diksha extremely rare. The question of a reasonable age of consent and a child's personal rights muddies the waters.

Film-maker Anand Gandhi, who researched Jain monks for his 2013 film, Ship Of Theseus, informs me of one case of bal diksha. It leads to a fascinating figure, Satish Kumar, environmentalist and founder of the Schumacher College in England, who was 9 when he railed against his mother, and professed a strong desire to embrace a monastic life. For nine years, he followed his guru on foot, falling in line with the rigour of monkhood. But by the time he was 18, a book on Gandhian philosophy had influenced him to spearhead real-world change, and he returned to regular life to become a disciple of another non-violent reformer, Vinoba Bhave.

Kumar eventually undertook an 8,000-mile peace pilgrimage, travelling from India to the US, guided by an ecological consciousness he says he attained from monkhood. In a 2013 interview with the High Profiles website, he ascribes the early spiritual tug to an inexplicable force. "At the age of 9, I decided to leave my mother, leave the safety and comfort of my childhood home and take on the life of a monk, where you have to pull out your hair (...) and sleep on a thin blanket-all that hardship I was ready to accept to find a way of the spirit. That can't just come into your head at age 9, and so I would say that there must have been something in me from a previous life."

*****

One of the disciples I meet at the Jain Upashray is former engineer and IITian Bhavik Shah, who took diksha in 2013, and was renamed Muniraj Shri Bhuvanjeetvijay. It was an online chat with Shah that awakened a spiritual interest in Sanket Parekh, his junior in college, and prompted him to study Jain philosophy. "(Sanket) used to ask me questions about the soul and spirituality. Because of the knowledge I already had from Sahebji, I could answer them," says Bhavik. Shah was an active member of the Yahoo! group JainList, billed as the "world's largest Jainism discussion group", which features links to academic articles and other Jain resources.

To a layperson, absolute detachment can appear illusory and quixotic, impossible to inhabit without slips, and I ask Bhavik about any discomfort in the days following his diksha. Once the pomp of the celebration quelled and quietude set in, what did the immediate after feel like? Stolid and straight-backed, he searches for an analogy "Those first days felt like...when you move from a small house into a really massive one. Or come into a lot of money after having very little. Exactly like that."

While interviewing sadhvis for her book, Sethi says she observed a strong defence of their acts of renunciation. "What was central to their identity as nuns were their stories of how they secured ordination overcoming familial resistance," she argues. "That is, their own agency defined their renunciation. They scorned the suggestion that a family tragedy, or poverty, had propelled them on to this path."

I observe the same pride in agency when talking to Muni Satvabhushan Vijay Maharaj, who says that his pre-monk-self was a regular 30-something, with a job in the aviation industry that involved travelling between India, Singapore and Nepal. He makes clear that his was not a case of early devotion; his brother was the first in his family to renounce the world. Then, Muni Satvabhushan viewed monkhood with a dogged cynicism.

"I used to think these monks are a burden to society," he says. "They're unproductive, all they do is consume from others." His brother eventually persuaded him to live with Pandit Maharaj for a week. "After training, I just never went back. I told gurudev I wanted to stay here. He accepted me without the diksha ceremony. My only regret is that I didn't get here sooner."
Order and Organization
Muni Satvabhushan patiently runs me through the ways in which the life of an ascetic is anything but unproductive-their life is entirely eco-friendly, they leave no carbon footprint, even their water consumption is limited to 5-10 litres per day (for sponge baths, washing clothes, etc.). It's a sustainable ecosystem, run by a well-tiered management. "It's organized, exactly like the corporate world. Experience and ability count here as well, but the intentions are totally different." Familial bonds too, he explains, are not entirely shunned, they only take on a different shape. "But before I left, I ensured my mom and dad were financially taken care of. We have only cut materialistic relations with our family. We think of them, and pray for them, for all our lives."

In the present age, when spiritual wellness is packaged and sold in various easy-to-digest forms, what is the enduring appeal of Jain asceticism? What makes able, financially secure millennials swap creature comforts for a lifetime of hardship? Both munis posit that apart from ethical and ecological benefits, theirs is the same search that propels others towards high-paying jobs and long-lasting marriages-a search for happiness.

For all the incredulous glances and scrutinizing questions that come his way, Muni Satvabhushan can only offer this simple explanation: "Society (today) is harassed with man's uncontrolled wants and desires. In my previous job I was flying all the time, now I can only travel barefoot-but I'm happy."

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At a recent 'diksha' ceremony in Mumbai, 16 men and women, most under the age of 30, took the Jain vow of renunciation. What motivates young, successful millennials to give up worldly possessions? And what is the payback of a life stripped bare?

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BOB ABERNETHY, anchor: Now, Belief and Practice: Today, a special ceremony for Sikhs, followers of the Guru Nanak, who founded Sikhism in India and preached the equality of all people and religions. The ceremony commemorates the creation of a Sikh brotherhood called the Khalsa. At the Guru Nanak Foundation of America in Silver Spring, Maryland, our guide was Manjit Singh.

MANJIT SINGH (Guru Nanak Foundation of America Gurdwara, Silver Spring, MD): The word "Sikh" means student or disciple.

Sikhs have three basic core beliefs: constant meditation and remembrance of the Creator, the importance of earning a living by honest and hard work, and the importance of justice and freedom for all.

Sikhs are disciples of Guru Nanak and the nine gurus - prophets who founded the religion almost 300 years ago.

The way that the tradition evolved is that each guru selected a successor guru. The tenth and final guru, Gobind Singh, in 1708 decided to end the successive lines of human gurus and decided to appoint the Sikh scripture called Guru Granth Sahib as the eternal guru. It is the eternal guru of the Sikhs because it contains all the revelations received by all the ten gurus.

In 1699, the Guru Gobind Singh revealed the Khalsa and the five Articles of Faith. The Khalsa is a brotherhood of Sikhs who publicly take a vow to follow a certain spiritual discipline along with a physical discipline.

The five Articles of Faith are: Kesh, which is uncut hair. The Sikhs are required to keep uncut hair on their entire body, and this applies to both men and women; Kara, which is a steel bracelet worn on the hand and reminds Sikhs to always do good deeds; the Kanga, which is a small wooden comb, and its purpose is to remind Sikhs [of] the importance of cleanliness. The fourth is Kuchara, which are worn to signify the importance of chastity. And the last Article of Faith is the Kirpan. It's a religious sword that is worn to remind Sikhs that they have a responsibility and a duty to stand up for justice.

Sikhs are not pacifists, but at the same time, we do not espouse violence. The philosophy is that if all other means of achieving justice have failed, it's righteous to raise the sword. That philosophy comes out of this concept of "saint-soldier," where the common analogy given is that a sword is merely a tool. In the hand of a righteous man, it can be used to uphold justice; in the hands of somebody who is evil, it will be used to commit atrocities.

Being a Sikh is immensely spiritually uplifting. At the same time, it is also a challenge, because you stand out in the crowd. But my faith helps me sustain, on a day-to-day basis, living a life of spiritual and physical discipline.

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June 3, 2005 ~ Sikh Saint-Soldier | June 3, 2005 | Religion & Ethics NewsWeekly | PBS

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BOB ABERNETHY, anchor: Now, Belief and Practice: Today, a special ceremony for Sikhs, followers of the Guru Nanak, who founded Sikhism in India and preached the equality of all people and religions. The ceremony commemorates the creation of a Sikh brotherhood called the Khalsa.

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Conflict in Israel and Palestine through 2015: Crash Course World History #223

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The Crusades - Pilgrimage or Holy War?: Crash Course World History #15

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Islam, the Quran, and the Five Pillars: Crash Course World History #13

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Christianity from Judaism to Constantine: Crash Course World History #11

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Buddha and Ashoka: Crash Course World History #6

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Playboy Interview: Madilyn Murray O'Hair

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Playboy Interview: Madilyn Murray O'Hair

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PLAYBOY: Why are you an atheist, Mrs. Murray?

MURRAY: Because religion is a crutch, and only the crippled need crutches. I can get around perfectly well on my own two feet, and so can everyone else with a backbone and a grain of common sense. One of the things I did during my 17 years as a psychiatric social worker was go around and find people with mental crutches, and every time I found one, I kicked those goddamn crutches until they flew. You know what happened? Every single one of those people has been able to walk without the crutches -- better, in fact. Were they giving up anything intrinsically valuable? Just their irrational reliance upon superstitions and supernatural nonsense. Perhaps this sort of claptrap was good for the Stone Age, when people actually believed that if they prayed for rain they would get it. But we're a grown-up world now, and it's time to put away childish things. But people don't, because most of them don't even know what atheism is. It's not a negation of anything. You don't have to negate what no one can prove exists. No, atheism is a very positive affirmation of man's ability to think for himself, to do for himself, to find answers to his own problems. I'm thrilled to feel that I can rely on myself totally and absolutely; that my children are being brought up so that when they meet a problem they can't cop out by foisting it off on God. Madalyn Murray's going to solve her own problems, and nobody's going to intervene. It's about time the world got up off its knees and looked at itself in the mirror and said: "Well, we are men. Let's start acting like it."

PLAYBOY: What led you to become an atheist?

MURRAY: Well, it started when I was very young. People attain the age of intellectual discretion at different times in their lives -- sometimes a little early and sometimes a little late. I was about 12 or 13 years old when I reached this period. It was then that I was introduced to the Bible. We were living in Akron and I wasn't able to get to the library, so I had two things to read at home: a dictionary and a Bible. Well, I picked up the Bible and read it from cover to cover one weekend -- just as if it were a novel -- very rapidly, and I've never gotten over the shock of it. The miracles, the inconsistencies, the improbabilities, the impossibilities, the wretched history, the sordid sex, the sadism in it -- the whole thing shocked me profoundly. I remember l looked in the kitchen at my mother and father and I thought: Can they really believe in all that? Of course, this was a superficial survey by a very young girl, but it left a traumatic impression. Later, when I started going to church, my first memories are of the minister getting up and accusing us of being full of sin, though he didn't say why; then they would pass the collection plate, and I got it in my mind that this had to do with purification of the soul, that we were being invited to buy expiation from our sins. So I gave it all up. It was too nonsensical.

A few years later, I went off to college, a good, middle-class, very proper college, where I studied with, and under, good, middle-class, very proper people; which is to say, the kind who regard sex as distasteful and religious doubts as unthinkable; the kind to whom it would never occur to scrutinize the mores of society, who absolutely and unquestioningly accept the social system.

PLAYBOY: What school was it?

MURRAY: Ashland College in Ashland, Ohio -- a Brethren institution, where two years of Bible study are required for graduation. One year I studied the Old Testament and one year the New Testament. It was a good, sound, thorough, but completely biased evaluation of the Bible, and I was delighted with it, because it helped to document my doubts; it gave me a framework within which I could be critical. But I can't deny that I was an intellectual prostitute along the way many, many times. I can remember one examination where they said. "Describe the Devil," and in order to get 12 points on that question one had to say that the Devil was red and had a forked tail and cloven hoofs and fangs and horns on his head. So I merrily wrote this answer down and got my 12 points. I always got straight hundreds in Bible study. My independent study continued for 20 years after this. So I do know the Bible very well from a Protestant point of view -- which is what, along with my reason, entitles me to refute it. You can't rationally reject something until you know all about it. But at this time, of course, my convictions hadn't yet crystallized intellectually. I didn't know where my doubts were leading me.

I recall that I had a terrible struggle finding anything antireligious in the school libraries. But many years later, the family returned to Pittsburgh and moved into a house where a woman had left a box of books containing 20 volumes on the history of the Inquisition.

It was then that I found out there was a word for people like me: "heretic." I was kind of delighted to find I had an identity. And then, as I grew a little bit older and got interested in law, I read that Clarence Darrow didn't believe in the Bible either. So I read everything he had ever written, all of his trials, everything -- to search out the philosophy of his disbelief. But I couldn't find it. Then I went into the Army, and one day, in the middle of a bull session, somebody called me an atheist. Believe it or not, it was the first time I'd ever heard the word. It goes to show you how a person can grow up in America and have a college education and still not know a goddamned thing. Anyway, when I learned that there was such a thing as an atheist, I looked it up -- and found out that the definition fitted me to a tee. Finally, at the age of 24, I found out who -- and what -- I was. Better late than never.

PLAYBOY: Do you think everyone should believe as you do -- or rather, disbelieve?

MURRAY: I think this would be the best of all possible worlds if everybody were an atheist or an agnostic or a humanist -- his or her own particular brand -- but as for compelling people to this, absolutely not. That would be just as infamous as their imposing Christianity on me. At no time have I ever said that people should be stripped of their right to the insanity of belief in God. If they want to practice this kind of irrationality, that's their business. It won't get them anywhere; it certainly won't make them happier or more compassionate human beings; but if they want to chew that particular cud. they're welcome to it.

PLAYBOY: Even as an atheist. would you concede that religion, at its best, can be and has been a constructive force, a source of strength and comfort for many people?

MURRAY: If you're talking about Christianity, absolutely not. I don't think the Church has ever contributed anything to anybody, anyplace, at any time.

PLAYBOY: How about the welfare and charity work to which many Catholic, Protestant and Jewish organizations dedicate themselves?

MURRAY: Oh, they love to point to their hospitals and orphanages -- most of which are restricted, by the way. But what do these "good works" amount to? They're nothing but a sop to the clerical conscience, a crumb thrown to the populace, alleviating some of the miseries which the Church itself -- particularly the Catholic Church -- has helped to instigate and perpetuate. I can't pinpoint a period in history or a place in the universe where religion has actually helped the welfare of man. On the contrary, the history of the Church has been a history of divisiveness, repression and reaction. For almost 2000 years, Christianity has held mankind back in politics, in economics, in industry, in science, in philosophy, in culture. Anyone who has even a surface knowledge of the Middle Ages, when the Church held unchallenged sway, can recognize this. But if any one age could be singled out as the worst in the history of Christendom, it would be the administration of Pope Pius XII, the most reactionary head of the most reactionary single force in the world -- a force that binds men's minds, a force that divides them, a force that chains them so that they are unable to think and act for themselves.

PLAYBOY: How do you feel about Pope John XXIII? Don't you think his humanitarian views, as enunciated in his Pacem in Terris, testify to the fact that enlightenment can flourish within the confines of the Church?

MURRAY: There are good, humanitarian people everywhere -- occasionally even in the Church. But John was an amoeba of goodness in a sea of waste, mistakenly believing that the Holy See could or would really change in any fundamental way. He was a tragic figure, for he raised a false hope, cast a brief ray of light that was snuffed out when he died. With Pope Paul in the saddle, the Church is firmly back in the hands of arch-conservative reaction.

PLAYBOY: When you say that organized religion has contributed nothing to human welfare, do you include those many clergymen, such as Reverend Reeb, who have risked, and in some cases lost, their lives participating in civil rights demonstrations?

MURRAY: Of course not. Reverend Reeb, by the way, was a well-known atheist, a Unitarian, and was not even buried with a religious ceremony. But those priests, nuns and ministers who aren't afraid to stand up and be counted are very much in the minority. They're the exception that proves the rule. Archbishop Toolen of Mobile-Birmingham has forbidden his priests to participate in Alabama civil rights demonstrations, and Cardinal McIntyre of California has punished priests in his diocese for getting involved in civil rights. These are the men who represent the Church mind -- not the poor maverick priest who defies them by marching.

But the most heinous crime of the Church has been perpetrated not against churchmen but against churchgoers. With its poisonous concepts of sin and divine punishment, it's warped and brainwashed countless millions. It would be impossible to calculate the psychic damage this has inflicted on generations of children who might have grown up into healthy, happy. productive, zestful human beings but for the burden of antisexual fear and guilt ingrained in them by the Church. This alone is enough to condemn religion.

PLAYBOY: How do you feel about such Catholic canons as the vow of celibacy for priests, and the spiritual "marriage" of Catholic sisters to Christ?

MURRAY: Sick, sick, sick! You think I've got wild ideas about sex? Think of those poor old dried-up women lying there on their solitary pallets yearning for Christ to come to them in a vision some night and take their maidenheads. By the time they realize he's not coming, it's no longer a maidenhead; it's a poor, sorry tent that nobody would be able to pierce -- even Jesus with his wooden staff. It's such a waste. I don't think anybody should be celibate -- and that goes for priests as well as nuns. I don't even like to alter a cat. We should all live life to the fullest, and sex is a part of life.

PLAYBOY: As an atheist, do you also reject the idea of the virgin birth?

MURRAY: Even if I believed there was a real Jesus, I wouldn't fall for that line of hogwash. The "Virgin" Mary should get a posthumous medal for telling the biggest goddamn lie that was ever told. Anybody who believes that will believe that the moon is made out of green cheese. If she could get away with something like that, maybe I should have tried it myself. I'm sure she played around as much as I have, and certainly was capable of an orgasm. Let's face it: If a son of God was ever born, it was because of this wonderful sex act that Joseph and Mary enjoyed one night.

PLAYBOY: A moment ago, you said, "Even if I believed there was a real Jesus..." Are you saying that you don't believe that there was such a person as Christ, or are you denying his divinity?

MURRAY: I'm saying that there's absolutely no conclusive evidence that he ever really existed, even as a mortal. I don't believe he was a historical figure at all.

PLAYBOY: Do you dismiss all the Biblical records of his life?

MURRAY: Those so-called records were written by devout ecclesiasts who wanted to believe, and wanted others to believe, in the coming of a Messiah. Until someone proves otherwise, therefore, these stories must be considered nothing more than folk tales consisting in equal parts of legend and wish fulfillment. But there's never going to be any way of verifying them one way or the other. Scholars have found that references to Christ in Josephus were deliberately planted in the translation long after it was written, and the Latin references to Christ are not to a person of that name. In the Dead Sea Scrolls there was mention of a particular "teacher of righteousness" who had characteristics somewhat like those attributed to Christ, but it might easily have been someone else. About six years ago, Life magazine ran an article on the historicity of Jesus, and I was floored to find that they conceded the only evidence we have for his existence is in the Gospels. But don't take Life's word for it. In his book The Quest of the Historical Jesus, the most definitive study that's ever been done on the subject, Albert Schweitzer admitted that there isn't a shred of conclusive proof that Christ ever lived, let alone was the son of God. He concludes that one must therefore accept both on faith. I reject both for the same reason.

PLAYBOY: Do you also reject the idea of a life hereafter on the same grounds?

MURRAY: Do you know anybody who's come back with a firsthand report on heaven? If you do, let me know. Until then, you'll pardon me if I don't buy it. If a humanist or an atheist or an agnostic says, "We'll bake you a pie," we can go right into the kitchen and bake it, and you can eat it an hour later. We don't promise you a pie in the sky by and by. It's charlatanry to promise people something that no one can be sure will ever be delivered. But it's even worse to offer people a reward, like children, for being good, and to threaten them with punishment if they're not. I'm reminded of the joke about Saint Peter sitting at the golden gate questioning a new arrival: "Well, my son, what good deeds have you done to get into heaven?" Well, the guy casts about for something to tell him and finally remembers that he gave five cents to a charwoman one night, and once he tipped a bootblack a nickel when he got his shoes shined, and another time he gave a beggar five shiny new pennies. And that's all he can think of that he's ever done for his fellow man. Well, Saint Peter looks at him and says, "Here's your fifteen cents back. You can go to hell."

That guy didn't know how lucky he was. I agree with Mark Twain, who wrote about the hereafter that there's no sex in it; you can't eat anything in it; there is absolutely nothing physical in it. You wouldn't have your brain, you wouldn't have any sensations, you wouldn't be able to enjoy anything -- unless you're queer for hymn singing and harp playing. So who needs it? Speaking for myself, I'd rather go to hell.

PLAYBOY: Because of your success in persuading the Supreme Court to outlaw school prayer in public schools, many outraged Christians seem to feel that's just where you belong. What made you decide to pursue your suit in the face of this predictable indignation?

MURRAY: I was shamed into it by my son, Bill, who came to me in 1960 -- he was 14 then -- and said: "Mother, you've been professing that you're an atheist for a long time now. Well, I don't believe in God either, but every day in school I'm forced to say prayers, and I feel like a hypocrite. Why should I be compelled to betray my beliefs?" I couldn't answer him. He quoted the old parable to me: "It is not by their words, but by their deeds that ye shall know them" -- pointing out that if I was a true atheist, I would not permit the public schools of America to force him to read the Bible and say prayers against his will. He was right. Words divorced from action supporting them are meaningless and hypocritical. So we began the suit. And finally we won it. I knew it wasn't going to make me the most popular woman in Baltimore, but I sure as hell didn't anticipate the tidal wave of virulent, vindictive, murderous hatred that thundered down on top of me and my family in its wake.

PLAYBOY: Tell us about it.

MURRAY: God, where should I begin? Well, it started fairly predictably with economic reprisals. Now, I'd been a psychiatric social worker for 17 years, but within 24 hours after I started the case, I was fired from my job as a supervisor in the city public welfare department. And I was unable to find another one, because the moment I would go in anywhere in town and say that my name was Madalyn Murray no matter what the job opening, I found the job filled; no matter how good my qualifications, they were never quite good enough. So my income was completely cut off. The second kind of reprisal was psychological. The first episode was with our mail, which began to arrive, if at all, slit open and empty -- just empty envelopes. Except for the obscene and abusive letters from good Christians all over the country, calling me a bitch and a Lesbian and a Communist for instituting the school-prayer suit -- they somehow arrived intact, and by the bushel-basketful. Hundreds of them actually threatened our lives; we had to turn a lot of them over to the FBI, because they were obviously written by psychopaths. and you couldn't be sure whether or not they were going to act on their very explicit threats. None did, but it didn't help us sleep any better at night.

Neither did the incredible anonymous phone calls we'd get at every hour of the day and night, which were more or less along the same lines as the letters. One of them was a particular gem. I was in the VA hospital in Baltimore and I had just had a very critical operation; they didn't think I was going to make it. They had just wheeled me back to my bed after two days in the recovery room when this call came in for me, and somebody who wouldn't give his name told me very seriously and sympathetically that my father had just died and that I should be prepared to come home and take care of my mother. Well, I called home in a state of shock, and my mother answered, and I asked her about Father, and she said, "What are you talking about? He's sitting here at this moment eating bacon and eggs." Obviously, that call had been calculated to kill me, because whoever it was knew that I was at a low ebb there in the hospital.

Then they began to take more direct action. My Freethought Society office was broken into; our cars were vandalized repeatedly; every window in the house was broken more times than I can count, every flower in my garden trampled into the ground all my maple trees uprooted; my property looked like a cyclone had hit it. This is the kind of thing that went on constantly, constantly, over a three-year period. But it was just child's play compared to the reprisals visited upon my son Bill. He'd go to school every day and hand in his homework, and a couple of days later many of his teachers would say to him, "You didn't hand in your homework." Or he'd take a test and about a week later many of his teachers would tell him, "You didn't hand in your test paper. You'll have to take the test again this afternoon." This was a dreadful reprisal to take against a 14-year-old boy. It got to the point where he had to make carbon copies of all his homework and all his tests to prove that he had submitted them. But that's nothing to what happened after school, both to him and to his little brother, Garth. I lost count of the times they came home bloodied and beaten up by gangs of teenage punks; five and six of them at a time would gang up on them and beat the living hell out of them. Many's the time I've stood them off myself to protect my sons, and these fine young Christians have spat in my face till spittle dripped down on my dress. Time and again we'd take them into magistrate's court armed with damning evidence and eyewitness testimony, but the little bastards were exonerated every time.

But I haven't told you the worst. The neighborhood children, of course, were forbidden by their parents to play with my little boy, Garth, so I finally got him a little kitten to play with. A couple of weeks later we found it on the porch with its neck wrung. And then late one night our house was attacked with stones and bricks by five or six young Christians, and my father got very upset and frightened. Well, the next day he dropped dead of a heart attack. The community knew very well that he had a heart condition, so I lay a murder to the city of Baltimore.

I decided that we'd have to take our chances with the law and get the hell out of Baltimore. I thought of seeking asylum in Canada or Australia or England, but I didn't want to leave the United States, because for better or worse I'm an American, and this is my land; so I decided to fight it out on home ground, and finally we hit upon Hawaii, because of the liberal atmosphere created by its racial admixture, and because of its relatively large population of Buddhists, who are largely nontheistic, and might therefore be more tolerant of our views. So we packed up all the worldly possessions we could carry with us and took the next flight to Hawaii from Washington.

PLAYBOY: How many were in your party?

MURRAY: Six of us -- my mother, my brother, my two sons, Bill's wife and me. And I can tell you, it took just about every cent we had to our name just to pay the plane fare. When we arrived, we had about $15 left among us. We were really in pitiful shape. But we were together, and we were alive, and this was all that mattered.

PLAYBOY: How did you find a place to stay?

MURRAY: Well, we were just floored by the kindness of the people here. The minister of the Unitarian Church in Honolulu invited US over to his office the day we arrived and told us to make it our headquarters while we looked for a permanent residence. When we couldn't find a place for about a week, he let us live in the church; that's ironic, isn't it? But it points up the vastly different intellectual atmosphere that prevails here in Hawaii. Anyway, we rustled up some mattresses and put them on the floor and slept there, cooked there and ate there until we found a home. I was overwhelmed by the number of calls we got from people offering to rent us houses, to take us out to dinner, to drive us around house hunting. Everyone was just indescribably kind. Finally we moved into a house offered to us for an incredible $125 a month by a man who feels that the separation of church and state is a valid constitutional issue which should be fought for.

PLAYBOY: Considering the repercussions of the school-prayer case, why did you decide to take on the tax-the-churches suit?

MURRAY: Once involved in the school-prayer fight, I rapidly became aware of, and appalled by, the political and economic power of the Church in America -- all based on the violation of one of our nation's canon laws: the separation of church and state. The churches rose to power on the income from tax-free property. What earthly -- or heavenly -- right have they got to enjoy a privilege denied to everyone else, even including nonprofit organizations? None! My contention is that with the churches exempted from property taxation, you and I have to pay that much more in taxes -- about $140 a year per family, according to a recent survey -- to make up for what they're not contributing. If this exemption were rescinded, our property taxes would be substantially lowered, and those who rent houses and apartments would consequently be able to pass along this savings in the form of lowered rents. It could have a profoundly salubrious effect on the entire economy. I decided that if nobody else was going to do anything to rectify this colossal inequity, I'd have to do it myself. So I instituted a suit against the city of Baltimore demanding that the city assessor be specifically ordered to assess the Church for its vast property holdings in the city, and that the city tax collector then be instructed to collect the taxes once the assessment has been made.

PLAYBOY: Have you made any estimate of approximately how many annual tax dollars the churches will have to pay if you win your suit?

MURRAY: On a nationwide basis, I would guess that the various churches would have to pay annually an amount at least equal to the national debt. But it's impossible for me to make an exact estimate, because the churches hide their wealth in every way they can -- deliberate falsification as to the value of property, registering it under phony names in order to obscure the fact that the Church owns the property. In Baltimore alone, I know that the Roman Catholic Church alone would have to pay taxes of almost $3,000,000 a year. This is why the Roman Catholic Church has become a codefendant with the city in the suit -- an unprecedented occurrence in a case of this nature. I'm going after them where they live -- in their pocketbooks -- and they're fighting for their lives. They have a tremendous amount at stake -- more than any other church, because they're the biggest property owners and they've dabbled in business more than any other church. More than any other church, they've been greedy about grabbing up land and property -- not just in Baltimore, but all over the country. According to a Catholic priest writing in The Wail Street Journal, the assets and real-estate holdings of the Church "exceed those of Standard Oil, A.T.&T. and U. S. Steel combined." I'd make an educated guess that 20 to 25 percent of the taxable property in the U.S. is Church-owned. In a recent book, Church Wealth and Business Income, it was estimated that this property -- all of it tax-exempt -- is worth upwards of 80 billion dollars. I know that's a fantastic, unbelievable figure, but there's every reason to believe that it's on the conservative side; and this amount is increasing yearly at a geometric rate. They're moving into everything -- gas stations, banks, television stations, supermarket chains, hotels, steel mills, resort areas, farms, wine factories, warehouses, bottling works, printing plants, schools, theaters -- everything you could conceivably think of that has nothing to do with religion, they are moving into big. They're even coming in as stockholders in the big oil companies, and the Bank of America is almost entirely owned by the Catholic Church. And mind you -- they don't pay a penny in taxes on any of it, even on the income from rentals. The Roman Catholic Knights of Columbus, for example, pays no income tax on any of its vast rental revenue -- which comes from such sources as the land on which Yankee Stadium stands. Almost every constitutional authority has spoken on this issue, and the overwhelming consensus is that we will win if we can get it to the U.S. Supreme Court. But we won't unless thousands of people help me raise the money to pay the legal fees -- at least $40,000.

PLAYBOY: You've been quoted as saying that the Catholic Church in Baltimore was behind a conspiracy to have you and your family jailed on some pretext so that you would be unable to pursue this suit, and that this is why you were subjected to a "campaign of extralegal harassment" by the police, the courts and the citizens of Baltimore. Do you really believe that?

MURRAY: I can't think of any other plausible explanation for this vendetta. But quite apart from the Church's financial self-interest in getting me out of the way, Baltimore is an overwhelmingly Catholic city and like most good Christians, they felt we ought to be punished for our unorthodox views. Intolerance has always been one of the cornerstones of Christianity -- the glorious heritage of the Inquisition. It's no coincidence that most of my abusive mail -- sentencing me to exquisite Oriental tortures and relegating me to hell-fire and damnation -- comes from self-admitted Catholics.

PLAYBOY: Are you still receiving that kind of mail here in Hawaii?

MURRAY: For some reason. the letters we've been getting here have been just a little bit more rational; I wonder what's happened to our lunatic fringe. I kind of miss them.

PLAYBOY: Is it true that you received a letter in Baltimore composed only of the word "Kill" clipped from dozens of magazines and newspapers, and pasted onto a sheet of paper in the style of a blackmail note?

MURRAY: Absolutely. It was from a man who had written to me over a period of about two years. He started out in his first letter with something innocuous like: "You're a damn fool!" But each successive letter got more and more violent, until he came to the point where he was very explicit in his threats. We turned that whole series of letters over to the FBI. One of the things this guy said he was going to do to me was put a gun up my ass and blow the crap out between my eyes. Nice? But that's mild compared to some of them. I've gotten literally thousands in the same vein. Someday I'd like to publish a book of these mash notes. It would be an extraordinary document. I'd call it Letters from Christians.

PLAYBOY: Would you include the photograph of yourself which you received smeared with feces?

MURRAY: That would be the frontispiece. This was a picture of my mother and me coming out of the United States Supreme Court, with fecal matter smeared across our faces. They wrapped it in wax paper so that when I received it I'd get the full impact of the message. Though I haven't gotten anything quite that original lately, there's still never a dull moment in my mailbox. Shall I read you excerpts from a random sampling?

PLAYBOY: Please.

MURRAY: You asked for it. Here goes: "You should be shot!" ... "Why don't you go peddle your slop in Russia?" ... "YOU WICKID ANAMAL" ... "I will KILL you!" ... "Commie, Commie, Commie!" ... "Somebody is going to put a bullet through your fat ass, you scum, you masculine Lesbian bitch!" ... "You will be killed before too long. Or maybe your pretty little baby boy. The queer-looking bastard. You are a bitch and your son is a bastard" ... "Slut! Slut! Slut! Bitch slut from the Devil!" That'll give you the general idea. Oh -- just one more; I love this one: "May Jesus, who you so vigorously deny, change you into a Paul."

Isn't that lovely? Christine Jorgensen had to go to Sweden for an operation, but me they'll fix with faith -- painlessly and for nothing. I hate to disappoint them, but I'm not the least bit interested in being a man. I'm perfectly satisfied with the female role.

PLAYBOY: What is the proper female role, in your opinion?

MURRAY: Well, as a militant feminist, I believe in complete equality with men: intellectual, professional, economic, social and sexual; they're all equally essential, and they're all equally lacking in American society today.

PLAYBOY: According to many sociologists, American women have never enjoyed greater freedom and equality, sexually and otherwise, than they do today.

MURRAY: Let's distinguish between freedom and equality. The modern American woman may be more liberated sexually than her mother was, but I don't think she enjoys a bit more sexual equality. The American male continues to use her sexually for one thing: a means to the end of his own ejaculation. It doesn't seem to occur to him that she might be a worthwhile end in herself, or to see to it that she has a proper sexual release. And, to him, sex appeal is directly proportional to the immensity of a woman's tits. I'm not saying that all American men are this way, but nine out of ten are breast-fixated, wham-bam-thank-you-rna'am cretins who just don't give a damn about anyone's gratification but their own.

If you're talking about intellectual and social equality for women, we're not much better off. We're just beginning to break the ice. America is still very much a male-dominated society. Most American men feel threatened sexually unless they're taller than the female, more intellectual, better educated, better paid and higher placed statuswise in the business world. They've got to be the authority, the final word. They say they're looking for a girl just like the girl who married dear old dad, but what they really want, and usually get, is an empty-headed little chick who's very young and very physical -- and very submissive. Well, I just can't see either a man or a woman in a dependency position, because from this sort of relationship flows a feeling of superiority on one side and inferiority on the other, and that's a form of slow poison. As I see it, men wouldn't want somebody inferior to them unless they felt inadequate themselves. They're intimidated by a mature woman.

PLAYBOY: Like yourself?

MURRAY: Yes, as a matter of fact. I think I actually frighten men. I think I scare the hell out of them time after time. It's going to take a pretty big man to tame this shrew. I need somebody who can at least stand up to me and slug it out, toe to toe. I don't mean a physical battle. I mean a man who would lay me, and when he was done, I'd say: "Oh, brother, I've been laid." Or if we had an argument, he would stand up and engage in intellectual combat and not go off and mope in the corner, or take reprisals, or go to drink. I want somebody who's whole and wholesome and has as much zest for living as I have. But I haven't found one who fills the bill; you can't hardly find them kind no more. And I know many women my size, psychologically and intellectually, who have the same problem.

PLAYBOY: How many lovers have you had, if you don't mind our asking?

MURRAY: You've got a hell of a nerve, but I don't really mind. I've had -- if you count my marriage as an affair, which I would like to do rather than count it as a marriage, because I'm not proud of having been married -- I've had five affairs, all of them real wingdings. I've enjoyed every goddamned minute of them, but sooner or later I've outgrown every one of them, and when I did I got fed up and threw them out. If they can't keep up with me, the hell with them.

PLAYBOY: Suppose a man were to get fed up with you first. What then?

MURRAY: Well, then he should be the one to pick up and leave. No hard feelings. I don't feel that people should glom onto other people. I feel that relationships should be nice and easy and convenient and happy and not strictured with legality or jealousy.

PLAYBOY: When you say "not strictured with legality," are you saying that you don't think people ought to get married?

MURRAY: Well, I've found that most people who are bound together legally would be a damn sight happier together -- or apart -- if they were released from the contract. A man-woman relationship is physical and emotional, not legal. Legality can't create love if it isn't there, or preserve it if it's dying, but it can destroy love by making it compulsory. You don't need a marriage license to live with someone, to have the security of a home, to rear any number of children, to have years of companionship; it's not illegal, but the moment you want to screw somebody, you have to get a license from the state to use your genital organs -- or run the risk of being charged with any number of crimes carrying sentences up to and including death. So sex is really the only sensible reason for getting married. But I'd suggest pulling down the shades instead. In the long run, it's cheaper -- and more fun.

PLAYBOY: How do you feel about the heritage of puritanical sexual guilt which many social scientists assert precipitates early marriages in this country?

MURRAY: It's shit for the birds. When will we grow up? Sex is where you find it. I say take it and enjoy it. Give and receive freely, without fear, without guilt and without contractual obligations.

PLAYBOY: Starting at what age?

MURRAY: Let nature decide. When a cow is biologically ready to have sex relations, she mates with the nearest well-hung bull. When a flower is ready to scatter its seed, it pollinates. It's the same way throughout nature -- except with man, who tries to postpone consummation of his sex drive, unsuccessfully for the most part, for six or eight years after he reaches puberty. By the time it's considered socially acceptable to start screwing, most of us are sexually constipated, and this is often an incurable condition. I think young people should be able to have their first sexual love affair whenever they feel like it. In the case of most girls, this would be around 13 or 14; with most boys, around 15 or 16.

PLAYBOY: What about VD and pregnancy?

MURRAY: They should be taught about sex, sex hygiene and contraceptive methods starting in the sixth grade, and whenever they want to try it, they should be allowed to go at it without supervision or restriction -- in their parents' bedroom, on the grass in a park, in a motel; it doesn't matter, as long as the setting is private and pleasant. If we did all this, our kids would grow up into happier, healthier human beings. But we won't, of course. It would make too much sense.

PLAYBOY: Would you call yourself an advocate of free love?

MURRAY: I'd describe myself as a sexual libertarian -- but I'm not a libertine. "To each his own" is my motto. If anybody wants to engage in any kind of sexual activity with any consenting partner, that is their business. I don't feel that I can sit in judgment on them, or that society can sit in judgment on them. Anybody can do anything they damn well please, as long as the relationship isn't exploitive. And I don't feel that legality should have anything to do with it. There are certain bodily functions of mine which I will not allow to be supervised. One of these is eating. Nobody's going to license me to do this. Another one is bodily disposals. I will defecate and urinate when I damn well please and as the spirit -- and the physical necessity -- moves me. And my sex life is peculiarly my own. I will engage in sexual activity with a consenting male any time and any place I damn well please.

PLAYBOY: Do you have any immediate plans along these lines?

MURRAY: It's none of your business, but as a matter of fact, I do. I've been completely without a sex life for about five years now -- ever since I began the school-prayer suit -- and if you don't think that's a hardship for a hot-blooded woman in her prime, just try it. I'm taking applications for stud service at this address -- care of Good and Haffner, Attorneys, 1010 Standard Building, Cleveland 13, Ohio -- as well as contributions for our tax-the-churches suit. Please enclose photograph, vital statistics, and a check for the lawsuit.

PLAYBOY: Are there any particular qualifications you're looking for?

MURRAY: No, I just want a man -- a real, two-balled masculine guy -- and there aren't many of them around, believe me. But I do want somebody my own age, and somebody who has brains enough to keep me interested and to earn enough money to support me in the style to which I've become accustomed. And I want a big man physically as well as intellectually. l want a man with the thigh muscles to give me a good frolic in the sack, the kind who'll tear hell out of a thick steak, and yet who can go to the ballet with me and discuss Hegelian dialectic and know what the hell he's talking about. I want a strong man, but a gentle one. And, most unlikely of all, but most essential, I want a man with a capacity for love -- to give it generously and accept it joyously. I also want somebody who, when I say, "Let's call it quits," won't hang on; who'll say, "All right, it was fun while it lasted. So long and good luck."

PLAYBOY: Have you ever known a man like that?

MURRAY: No, but there was one who came close, and I loved him madly for some time. I don't think anybody in the world thought he was gentle, but he was gentle with me. And he treated me like a woman, which is all I really ask or want. I felt handled by him, and this is a good feeling. But, unfortunately, he never outgrew his particular intellectual commitment, so I outgrew him. He was an engineer and he was almost totally involved in his work, engineers have a very limited education and background, I think You need to move into the broader humanities in order to become a total person. But I loved him very much.

PLAYBOY: Was he the one you loved most?

MURRAY: I think so. He's a damned Dago. That's a term of affection.

PLAYBOY: Of the men you've had affairs with, how many others were foreigners?

MURRAY: None of them. But they were of different extractions. This particular guy was of Italian parentage; another had English blood; one was a real upper-class Bostonian; one had a Russian background, and one was Irish; he was the one that was best in bed. Did you know that we ladies have bull sessions like this among ourselves, and we talk about which of you fellows are good stud service and which ones aren't? If you boys knew what you sound like when you and your bedroom manners are dissected by a bunch of WACs, it would curl your hair, because we talk about exactly the same things you do among yourselves -- and just as graphically.

Say, I wonder why I'm telling you all this. I know I'm being indiscreet, because this kind of thing could be used against me nationwide; it'll just add fuel to the fire, which is already hot enough for me. But you know something? It just so happens that I don't give a damn. I'm going to be damned anyway. If they haven't destroyed me yet, I'd say I'm indestructible.

Five years ago, before I opened Pandora's box by starting the school-prayer case, I was doing all right financially; I had my health, a good job, a nice brick Colonial home, beautiful furniture, three cars; we were a happy close-knit, well-adjusted family. Well, brother, look at me now, as the saying goes: Here I am in a termite-ridden bungalow in Hawaii; my savings are gone; my job is gone; my health is gone -- thanks to the beating I got in Baltimore, which has lost me almost all the use of two fingers in my right hand. I'm bothered by a continuous low-grade pain in that same hand and arm, which distracts me from my work and keeps me awake nights. My Baltimore home is in jeopardy; I may lose it. I've lost my furniture and my cars. My brother can't find a job, though he's been looking for work ever since we arrived here; so he's just a nice, educated bum at this point. I've lost my father by a heart attack, and my son Bill has broken down emotionally to the extent that he's under psychiatric care. My aged mother is with me, and she can't even be buried next to Dad, whose grave is back in Baltimore. And my son and I are living under the Damoclean sword of imminent extradition back to Maryland, where we are certain to be convicted and sentenced to several years in the state penitentiary for assault -- a crime which we not only didn't commit, but which was perpetrated against us. So my life and the life of my family has been completely disrupted in absolutely every way. But it's been worth it. It's uncovered a vast cesspool of illegitimate economic and political power in which the Church is immersed right up to its ears, and I intend to dive in headfirst and pull it out of there dripping wet for all the world to see -- no matter how long it takes, no matter whose feet get stepped on in the process, no matter how much it costs, no matter how great the personal sacrifice.

PLAYBOY: It sounds as if you intend to make this cause your raison d'être.

MURRAY: No, this crusade to separate church and state is only one expression of my raison d'être. I'm an atheist, but I'm also an anarchist, and a feminist, and an integrationist. and an internationalist -- and all the other "ists" that people seem to find so horrible these days. I embrace all of them.

Long ago, when I was a very young girl, I said that I wanted to go everywhere, see everything, taste everything. hear everything, touch everything, try everything before I died. Well, I've been a model, I've been a waitress, I've been a hairdresser, I've been a stenographer, I've been a lawyer, I've been an aerodynamics engineer, I've been a social worker, I've been an advertising manager, I've been a WAC. There isn't anything you can name that a woman can do that I haven't done. Before they put me under, I'm going to get involved in everything there is to get involved in. That's what I want from life. I don't intend to stand by and be a spectator. I want to be right in there in the midst of it, right up to my nose -- totally involved in the community, in the world, in the stream of history, in the human image. I want to drink life to the dregs, to enlarge myself to the absolute limits of my being -- and to strive for a society in which everyone -- regardless of race, creed, color and especially religious conviction -- has the same exhilarating raison d'être, and the same opportunity to fulfill it. In other words, to paraphrase Jack Kennedy and John Paul Jones, from this day forward, let the word go forth, to friend and foe alike: I have not yet begun to fight.

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Madalyn Murray O'Hair - Playboy Interview.

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PLAYBOY: Why are you an atheist, Mrs. Murray? MURRAY: Because religion is a crutch, and only the crippled need crutches. I can get around perfectly well on my own two feet, and so can everyone else with a backbone and a grain of common sense.

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The 21 Ecumenical Councils Revised - St. Monica Parish NEPA

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The 21 Ecumenical Councils I. FIRST COUNCIL OF NICAEA Year: 325 Summary: The Council of Nicaea lasted two months and twelve days. Three hundred and

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Uploaded by WatchMojo.com on 2007-11-19.

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As a student rabbi, Alysa Stanton - who next month becomes the first ever African-American woman rabbi - was assigned to intern in a congregation in Dothan, Ala.

But no sooner did she arrive than the president of the congregation called the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in Cincinnati to complain.

"He said, 'Are you kidding,?'" recalled Rabbi Ken Kanter, director of HUC's rabbinical program.
Stanton said she was told that a "black person ministering to a white congregation in the Deep South was unheard of."

However, Rabbi Kanter said, the congregation "very quickly recognized they had a rabbi who happened to be a woman and who happened to be African-American. She quickly became their rabbi ... and at the end of the year they wanted her to stay because she was so well loved."

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Stanton said the challenge had been to "put aside mutual stereotypes and prejudices and get to know each other on our own merits. We did it and [developed] phenomenal relationships. I will always hold a special place for them in my heart."

That experience gave her the confidence to consider another congregation in the South when it came time to apply for her first full-time position, which she will assume after her ordination June 6. The synagogue is Congregation Bayt Shalom in Greenville, N.C., about 70 miles east of Raleigh in the eastern part of the state.

Stanton and a half-dozen other candidates from both the Reform and Conservative movements were interviewed by phone by the congregation's 10-member search committee, according to Michael Barondes, the congregation's president. Stanton and a Conservative rabbi were then invited for a visit.
"She led an adult education class and met with the youth group and made a tremendous impression on the congregation," Barondes said of Stanton. "She has musical skills and a singing talent that was impressive. And she has interpersonal skills and the ability to engage people - adults and children. She was also able to articulate the desire to help us come up with a plan to unite the diverse Jewish community in a one-synagogue town."

About 70 percent of the 56-family congregation is Reform and the rest Conservative. The congregation is affiliated with both movements.

"The fact that she is a convert was not a factor [in her selection]," Barondes said. "She was not the only Jew-by-choice who applied for the position. ... And the fact she is African-American played no part. During her three-day visit, she was able to impress so many people that the congregation overwhelmingly supported her candidacy."

Stanton, 45, grew up in a Pentecostal Christian home in Cleveland, Ohio. At the age of 6, her family moved to a Jewish neighborhood in Cleveland Heights, Ohio.

It was there that her Uncle Ed, a devout Catholic who also occasionally attended the local synagogue, explained to her what the mezuzahs meant on the neighbors' doorposts. When she was 10 and already on her own spiritual quest, he gave her a Hebrew grammar book.

"My mother is a woman of faith," Stanton said. "She taught us that we need to have a spiritual base and she gave us the freedom to chose what that is. For me, Judaism was where I found a home."
At the age of 11, Stanton moved with her family to Lakewood, Colo., and by the time she was in her early 20s, she said she had decided to convert to Judaism.

"I sought out a rabbi and each week I traveled 144 miles to meet with him in Denver for intensive, one-to-one study," she said, adding that after a year she converted, appearing before a bet din [Jewish court] and going to the mikveh.

"Initially when I converted my family was shocked," Stanton said, adding that her mother (her father is deceased) and sister and two brothers have been "very supportive - my rock during this long journey."
For about the last 15 years, her rabbi in Denver has been Steven Foster of Temple Emanuel, a Reform congregation. He said he found Stanton to be "a very spiritual person who brings the best of two different cultures together. She is a terrific person and we will be lucky in the Jewish community to have her as a rabbi."

Rabbi Foster said that although Stanton was converted by a "right-wing Conservative rabbi," she later "connected with us because of our history with social justice issues. ... She used to teach for us and sing for us and when she decided to become a rabbi we all supported her."

One of her professors at HUC, David Weisberg said the fact that Stanton landed a job already in this tight job market - only about half of the graduates have jobs - is evidence of her special qualities.
"She has a love of Judaism and a pull for the study of the Torah," he said. "She is very sensitive about the issues of piety and love of Torah."

Steve Sunderland, a friend at the neighboring University of Cincinnati, called Stanton a "remarkable young lady who has a spiritual commitment to Judaism that is rare. ... She has it clear in her mind that she is a Jew who happens to be African-American. She sees being an African-American one additional gift she brings to Judaism."

Those thoughts were echoed by Rabbi Samuel Joseph, an HUC professor of Jewish education and leadership development, who said he has "never met anyone more determined."

"She loves being Jewish and wants to serve the Jewish people," he said. "It's always tough being the first, but she wasn't going to let anything stop her. I don't believe she ever thought about becoming a pioneer."
Stanton said, in fact, that she did not know she was the first until after she started rabbinical school.
Rabbi Kanter said Stanton's prior career, as a licensed psychotherapist specializing in grief and loss - she was called upon to counsel people after the Columbine High School massacre in 1999 - "is an important talent to bring to the rabbinate."

Stanton is a single mother of a 14-year-old, Shana, who she adopted at the age of 14 months. Stanton later married and divorced. Because of complications from gastric bypass surgery, she was forced to complete her rabbinical studies in seven rather than five years.

Steven M. Cohen, an HUC research professor of Jewish social policy, said it is "no coincidence" that Stanton is being ordained the same year Barack Obama was sworn in as president.

"He is a man who represented the aspiration to cross ancient boundaries, rivalries and conflicts," he said. "She crosses both religious and ethnic boundaries in her own life, representing a pioneering model of Jewish continuity. ... She is not alone in that the number of converts and others coming to Judaism from non-conventional backgrounds is probably at its peak in American life."

The Institute for Jewish and Community Research in San Francisco estimates that 20 percent of the six million American Jews are racially and ethnically diverse by birth, conversion and adoption. And there have been an estimated 20,000 to 30,000 marriages between Jews and African-Americans since the civil rights movement.

Diane Tobin, the institute's associate director and director of its Be-Chol Lashon program, said her organization has worked with Stanton as part of its mission to "advocate for the growth and diversity of the Jewish people."

Although Stanton is the first female African-American rabbi, there are many black male rabbis worldwide, Tobin said.

"With the election of President Obama, the Jewish community is very interested in its diverse roots," she said. "We have always been a diverse people and young people in particular want to see themselves as part of a global people. ... Mainstream Jewish communities want to partner with us and introduce diversity as part of their programming."

Although Stanton and her daughter will be the only black members in her Greenville congregation, Tobin said she would be interested to see if they attract blacks to the congregation.

Ernest Adams, 62, an African-American in Manhattan who converted to Judaism in 1997, said he is "meeting more and more black folks in synagogues."

"In the South the Jewish community couldn't be as liberal as the Jews up North, where you could find Jews marching with Martin Luther King," he said. "In the South, the rabbis had to be cautious. But now that a white Southern congregation can hire a black rabbi, there is a significant change. The fact that it has been greeted with equanimity means there's a big shift. The culture is changing."

Stanton said graduation day will be something special, not just because she is the first African-American woman to be ordained a rabbi but because of the medical problems she had to overcome to get there.
"I went back to school in a wheelchair [at one point]," she recalled. "So to be finishing now is so poignant on so many levels. God has sustained me."

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As a student rabbi, Alysa Stanton - who next month becomes the first ever African-American woman rabbi - was assigned to intern in a congregation in Dothan, Ala. But no sooner did she arrive than the president of the congregation called the Hebrew Union College-Jewish Institute of Religion in Cincinnati to complain.

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The two Jain shows currently in New York give an in-depth view of a great art tradition and a complex faith.

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TIME Magazine: The Face of Buddhist Terror

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TIME Magazine: The Face of Buddhist Terror

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The word "mandala" is from the classical Indian language of Sanskrit. Loosely translated to mean "circle," a mandala is far more than a simple shape. It represents wholeness, and can be seen as a model for the organizational structure of life itself--a cosmic diagram that reminds us of our relation to the infinite, the world that extends both beyond and within our bodies and minds.

Describing both material and non-material realities, the mandala appears in all aspects of life: the celestial circles we call earth, sun, and moon, as well as conceptual circles of friends, family, and community.

A mandala is...
An integrated structure
organized around a
unifying center Longchenpa
"The integrated view of the world represented by the mandala, while long embraced by some Eastern religions, has now begun to emerge in Western religious and secular cultures. Awareness of the mandala may have the potential of changing how we see ourselves, our planet, and perhaps even our own life purpose."
(FromMandala: Journey to the Center, by Bailey Cunningham)
creating unity
Creating a group mandala is a unifying experience in which people can express themselves individually within a unified structure.

The Mandala Project workshops for children include the creation of a group mandala quilt. The students enjoy creating individual mandalas that are incorporated into a larger work of art. Creating a group mandala can be an enjoyable activity with friends. It can also provide an excellent closure to an event or workshop.

These photos of a beach rock mandala were taken by Mary Ann Rolfe. The mandala was made at the culmination of a week long workshop in August 1998 at Findhorn in the Northern part of Scotland.

See Mary Ann's Mary Ann writes about the experience: "We all brainstormed to decide on a closing project to celebrate the week and the wonderful connections we had made with people from all over the world, the Findhorn Foundation and with ourselves. "At this lovely North Sea beach, instead of sand we found incredible washed stones of every size and color. So, we began this impromptu creation knowing that part of the beauty would be in its temporary nature as the tides washed it away." personal mandala.

More examples of group mandalas:
Miguel Tomas' art classes in Spain
Regina Drummond's workshop in Costa Rica

cross-cultural patterns
The mandala pattern is used in many religious traditions. Hildegard von Bingen, a Christian nun in the 12th century, created many beautiful mandalas to express her visions and beliefs.

In the Americas, Indians have created medicine wheels and sand mandalas. The circular Aztec calendar was both a timekeeping device and a religious expression of ancient Aztecs.

In Asia, the Taoist "yin-yang" symbol represents opposition as well as interdependence. Tibetan mandalas are often highly intricate illustrations of religious significance that are used for meditation.

different cultures, similar expressions
Both Navajo Indians and Tibetan monks create sand mandalas to demonstrate the impermanence of life.

In ancient Tibet, as part of a spiritual practice, monks created intricate mandalas with colored sand made of crushed semiprecious stones. The tradition continues to this day as the monks travel to different cultures around the world to create sand mandalas and educate people about the culture of Tibet.

The creation of a sand mandala requires many hours and days to complete. Each mandala contains many symbols that must be perfectly reproduced each time the mandala is created. When finished, the monks gather in a colorful ceremony, chanting in deep tones as they sweep their mandala into a jar and empty it into a nearby body of water as a blessing. This action also symbolizes symbolizes the cycle of life.

A world away, the American Navajo people also create impermanent sand paintings which are used in spiritual rituals–in much the same way as as they are used by Tibetans. A Navajo sandpainting ritual may last from five to nine days and range in size from three to fifteen feet or more.

about Tibetan art and culture Learn more
Learn more about Navajo Sand Paintings

mandalas in architecture
From Buddhist stupas to Muslim mosques and Christian cathedrals, the principle of a structure built around a center is a common theme in architecture.

Native American teepees are conical shapes built around a pole that represents the "axis mundi" or world axis.

Buckminster Fuller expanded on the dome design with his famous geodesic dome structures. The dome structure has the highest ratio of enclosed area to external surface area, and all structural members contribute equally to the whole--a great structural representation of a mandala!

micro to macro Representing the universe itself, a mandala is both the microcosm and the macrocosm, and we are all part of its intricate design. The mandala is more than an image seen with our eyes; it is an actual moment in time. It can be can be used as a vehicle to explore art, science, religion and life itself. The mandala contains an encyclopedia of the finite and a road map to infinity.

Carl Jung said that a mandala symbolizes "a safe refuge of inner reconciliation and wholeness." It is "a synthesis of distinctive elements in a unified scheme representing the basic nature of existence." Jung used the mandala for his own personal growth and wrote about his experiences.

It is said by Tibetan Buddhists that a mandala consists of five "excellencies":
The teacher * The message * The audience * The site * The time

An audience or "viewer" is necessary to create a mandala. Where there is no you, there is no mandala. (from: You Are the Eyes of the World, by Longchenpa, translated by Lipman and Peterson).

See Links for more information on the mandala

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The word "mandala" is from the classical Indian language of Sanskrit. Loosely translated to mean "circle," a mandala is far more than a simple shape. It represents wholeness, and can be seen as a model for the organizational structure of life itself--a cosmic diagram that reminds us of our relation to the infinite, the world that extends both beyond and within our bodies and minds.

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Indus Valley Civilization: Crash Course World History #2

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Mirabai (also known as Meerabai, Mira, Meera) is the most well known of the women bhakti (Hindu devotional) saints of India. According to tradition, this 16th-century royal devotee of Krishna was born in Merta in Rajasthan in the kingdom of Marwar and dedicated to Krishna from childhood, but married into the royal family of Mewar in Chittor, most say against her will.

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Posted on Categories Tags diversity calendar calendar of holy days, inclusive religious calendar, interfaith calendar, interfaith Calendar 2021, list of religious holidays 2021, Major Religious Holidays, major religious holidays 2021, religious calendar 2021, religious festivals calendar, religious holidays 2021, religious holidays calendar, world religion calendar

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2021 Interfaith Calendar: Major Religious Holidays, World Religion Holy Days

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Posted on Categories Tags diversity calendar calendar of holy days, inclusive religious calendar, interfaith calendar, interfaith Calendar 2021, list of religious holidays 2021, Major Religious Holidays, major religious holidays 2021, religious calendar 2021, religious festivals calendar, religious holidays 2021, religious holidays calendar, world religion calendar