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“Please don’t jump down my throat,” Taylor Grin thought as he approached his training instructor with a request.

It was 2013, and Grin was a few weeks into Air Force basic training at Joint Base San Antonio-Lackland. He had just learned which religious services were available to trainees — Catholic, several Protestant denominations, Jewish, Muslim and Buddhist, among others.

Grin, then 26, considered himself a secular humanist, someone who pursues an ethical life without a belief in God. With no chaplain-facilitated service for trainees like him, he wanted to start one — and became a key player in a national culture war playing out within the U.S. military.

With a commander’s blessing, Grin and seven others met in a lobby Sundays, picking up new members from recruits headed to nearby restrooms. The weekly meetings now attract 1,000 trainees or more, a major share of the roughly 3,800 who attend religious services each week.

Surveys suggest humanists, atheists and agnostics — among the many who register no religious preference when asked — make up a rising percentage of Americans, in and out of the military.

Based on a recommendation of the Armed Forces Chaplains Board, a Defense Department memo this year added more than 100 beliefs — including humanism, paganism, shamanism, three forms of Wicca and more than 90 previously unlisted variations of Protestantism — to supplement its recognized faith groups. It more than doubled the total, to 221.

Back to Gallery Humanist services at Lackland raise eyebrows — but draw... 18 1 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 2 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 3 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 4 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 5 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 6 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 7 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 8 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 9 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 10 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 11 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 12 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 13 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 14 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 15 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 16 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate 17 of 18 Photo: Photo courtesy of Vicki Gettman / 18 of 18 Photo: Darren Abate /Darren Abate



































Chaplains use the list — once called the “Faith Group Code” but now the “Faith and Belief Code” — to assess the religious needs of a unit. Military officials say it will allow them to more accurately gauge what the troops believe. But it doesn’t entitle every group to representation by uniformed clergy in the chaplain corps — that list remains much smaller.

Atheist groups, who failed in an attempt to establish a chaplaincy in 2015, see the expanded list as a step toward one day being included, but many view the idea of secular chaplains as absurd.

Beliefs without an obligation to a higher power are not religions, said Travis Weber, who directs the Center for Religious Liberty. He sees the new list as part of an “assault on chaplains” who no longer can freely teach tenets of their faith — particularly about sex and gender — that go against the military’s new inclusiveness.

“There are a number of chaplains who believe their faith is at odds with what is being pushed by trends, by society and by the government,” said Weber, whose website lists cases of chaplains who have been disciplined for expressing their views on homosexuality.

The clash also has been noted by advocates for secular and minority beliefs such as the Military Religious Freedom Foundation, which in the past had been fielding about 110 complaints a month about chaplains, many involving unwanted proselytizing. This year, it jumped to between 250 and 400 monthly complaints, said Mikey Weinstein, a former Air Force officer who helped start the group.

“The state of religious freedom in the military is critical,” Weinstein said. “The current landscape is a disaster — it’s a battlefield.”

The Air Force wouldn’t make Lackland chaplains available for interviews. Volunteers at the humanist service say the chaplains haven’t actively opposed it — one helped them start it in 2013 — but they make no effort to tell trainees about it.

Air Force atheists

Every Sunday, Vicki Gettman, 40, a former Army staff sergeant, drives from her home in Schertz to set up a projector in the auditorium of Lackland’s Pfingston Reception Center. Air Force basic trainees file in around 12:30 p.m.

Lackland trainees are free to attend any religious service, and many take the opportunity to learn about other people’s faiths. Roughly half of those who choose the two-hour secular humanist service say they’re Christian, Gettman said. Most of the rest are atheists and agnostics, with a sprinkling of Satanists, Scientologists, the Norse religions and others, she said.

The meetings are a refereed discussion of a range of topics — morality, mortality, ethics, grief, stress — but no worship of a deity or deference to a religious leader. Gettman is endorsed by the Washington, D.C.-based Humanists Society as a chaplain and celebrant but has no such status in the military chaplaincy. She identifies as an atheist and agnostic, too.

“I do think using the word ‘atheist’ is important,” Gettman said. “It’s a scary word to some people, but as I understand, humanism is the philosophy to live your life the best way that you can.”

The room filled with hoots and hollers at a recent service, which opened with a dance competition. The raucous crowd bellowed in unison as Gettman explained the rules: no debating, no proselytizing — “you’re not going to bash someone else’s thought process,” she said.

Fewer than 1 in 4 raised hands when asked if they identified as atheists, agnostics or humanists. The Air Force does not allow interviews with basic trainees, but of roughly 20 who were interviewed about the meetings after they graduated, only three or four said they were humanists.

Despite the serious topics, the graduates said, trainees consider the meetings something of a diversion.

“Many religious people I know went there just for the laid-back atmosphere,” said Jeremy Wentworth, who trained in January. “I’m not a religious person, but it’s a good way to get out of the dorms on Sunday and have a few laughs. It also kept you up to date with news.”

Others, such as Senior Airman Sarah Soffer, said she hadn’t found a religious service she liked but was attracted to the humanist meetings “to interact with trainees and adults and feel like an equal for a bit.”

At one service, more than 30 trainees took turns at a microphone to offer opinions on the day’s question: Why are young people less religiously affiliated? Many who said they were Christian or raised in a religious background spoke of a desire to avoid conflict and not be defined by stereotypes.

Airman Sydni Smith attended for weeks, stopped going when she realized the topics were repeating, then returned. “I came here because I realized I am a humanist, these are my people and this is what I believe,” Smith told the crowd.

Some trainees were less serious, mirthfully making hand gestures denoting nihilism or Satanism.

Several said they came primarily for the last half-hour, what Gettman calls “nerd news.” Trainees don’t have much access to the outside world, and after she began sharing videos on the latest developments in science, some trainees asked for updates from the world of professional video gaming — which led to recaps of sports scores, news headlines and occasional trailers of upcoming movies.

“We try to end our conversations on death in a fun way,” Gettman said.

Backstage beginnings

Religious services for basic trainees are a weekly respite from an otherwise intense schedule, and those who don’t attend are often assigned to clean their barracks. For Grin, in the spring of 2013, it seemed unfair that his two options were to go to church or mop.

“When you put folks in a high-stress environment, a deliberately high-stress environment, you’re going to need ways for trainees to recoup,” Grin said. “You’ve got religious trainees — they have an institution where they can get their needs met. What about us?”

Grin grew up in Utah in The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. His growing doubts about faith led to friction with family members. Before he entered basic training, Grin reached out to the Military Association of Atheists and Freethinkers, which has advocated for nonreligious service members since 1998.

Its president, a former Army officer named Jason Torpy, contacted Gettman, the leader of its San Antonio chapter, and asked if she would help Grin hold meetings. It took weeks after Grin approached his training instructor with the request, but Gettman found a commander to approve it.

“About seven other guys who were in my flight were really interested in these services,” Grin recalled. “Some were Christians, some were humanists, others had no name for their beliefs and were curious if ‘humanist’ had what they already believed.”

Some dropped out, but the group attracted others, he said, including atheists who had been attending Buddhist services nearby. It numbered 20 by the time he graduated.

The Air Force moved them to a slightly larger space, a storage area behind a stage, accessible only by a small side door. Catholic Mass was celebrated on the stage itself, and the humanists couldn’t hear each other when the Catholics sang.

“If there was a fire, the Air Force would have lost all its atheists,” Debbie Bienen, a volunteer at the time, recalled of the growing numbers crammed behind the stage.

Gettman used the fire hazard argument to secure the larger space used today. Last November, the meetings regularly started drawing about 1,000 trainees, the room’s capacity. Organizers have had to turn some away.

The services still go unmentioned during trainee orientation or in brochures listing available religious services. And Torpy said commanders have rejected attempts by his group to start similar meetings at Army basic training facilities at Fort Sill, Oklahoma, and Fort Jackson, South Carolina.

But after the Navy held off a request for two years, a humanist meeting now has grown to 85 attendees at its boot camp at Naval Station Great Lakes in Illinois, said Ray Doeksen, an Army veteran and lay leader there. He still can’t advertise it to trainees.

The ultimate goal is a humanist chaplain, Doeksen said, adding, “I won’t be happy until we’re on a level playing field.”

The chaplain’s role

Even in the Revolutionary War, chaplains tried to provide religious services for soldiers of faiths not their own. The military has added Buddhist and Hindu chaplains to recognize the diversity in its ranks. But adding atheists and humanists would be going too far, said former chaplain Ron Crews, executive director of the Chaplain Alliance for Religious Liberty.

Religion across four branches of the military Search for a religion to see the number of members of each branch of the military who identify with it. Religion Army Navy Marine Corps Air Force Total *"Unknown" includes those who have no religious preference. Source: U.S. Military Credit: Annie Millerbernd

“An atheist chaplain is an oxymoron,” he said. “The chaplain motto is for ‘God and country,’ and for an atheist, there is no god, so how can they raise their right hand and say they’re for ‘God and country?’”

A Pew Research Center survey of more than 35,000 Americans found that adults describing themselves as Christian declined by nearly 8 percentage points between 2007 and 2014, while those calling themselves atheist, agnostic or “nothing in particular” went from just over 16 percent to almost 23 percent. The change was more pronounced among those ages 18 to 24.

Catholics and Baptists have the largest church memberships in the military, a combined 26 percent, according to Defense Department numbers. An additional 28 percent identify as “Christian (no preference).” About a quarter reported no religious preference in a 2014 survey, but it’s unclear how many of them were atheists.

“That’s the $25 question,” said Col. Jay Johns, an Army chaplain and the executive director of the Armed Forces Chaplains Board. “We have no way of knowing what they actually adhere to.”

The new list of 221 faiths and beliefs is an attempt at better record keeping and in future surveys “forces them to say, ‘I am this, that or another thing,’” he said.

“A lot of people have confused the concept of recognized faiths and beliefs, as if the DOD is saying some are legitimate and some are not,” he said. “That is not the intent.”

Amid criticism from both sides — that military religious services don’t treat atheists equally or shouldn’t include them at all — officials still use the term “religious” to describe them.

“If we’re going to offer religious education activities for believers, then we should also offer it for nonbelievers.” said Bob Rubio, a spokesman for Lackland’s 37th Training Wing.

Asked how commanders decide to allow humanist services, Johns said by email that “when a religious need is identified, chaplains ensure that the need is met either through direct delivery of ministry or by securing another provider.”

It’s an “understandable linguistic battle,” Doeksen said. “A hundred years ago, it was, ‘How can you be a chaplain if you’re not a Christian?’”

Nick Fish, the national program director for American Atheists, made a similar observation: “It’s not so much an oxymoron, it’s a limitation of language. Chaplains don’t just lead religious services, they represent all members of a unit.”

Humanist groups at West Point and the Naval and Air Force academies are clubs, sponsored by commanders but not affiliated with chaplains. That might work elsewhere, some officials suggested.

“If we become just a club, that fails to recognize that humanism occupies the same cultural and spiritual place that other religions do for troops,” countered Grin, now an airman in the 177th Cyber Aggressor Squadron in Wichita, Kansas.

The humanists at Lackland were a community, he said.

“It wasn’t just that I had someone there offering discourse on how to live a good life,” Grin said. “The most important aspect of humanism in a crisis, to me, is that humanists take responsibility for reaching out. We band together because we’re all we got.”

jlawrence@express-news.net