🤯📿 “Neil deGrasse Tyson Explains WHY He Doesn’t Believe in God: ‘Which God? There’s 18,000!’ — You’ve Never Heard Religion Debunked Like THIS!”

When Neil deGrasse Tyson is asked about God, he doesn’t dodge the question.

He dissects it with surgical precision.

“Which God are we talking about?” he asks.

“Zeus? Poseidon? The wrathful God of the Old Testament? The gentler New Testament version? There’s a list of gods worshipped by humans that just goes on and on—screen after screen after screen.

” It’s not sarcasm—it’s a data-driven point.

If you’re asking whether he believes in God, the first question is: which one out of the thousands humans have created across cultures and civilizations? The deeper issue, according to Tyson, is that no one ever

defines what they mean when they say “God.”

Tyson doesn’t call himself an atheist—at least not anymore.

In fact, he’s quick to reject the label, saying that modern atheism comes with baggage he wants no part of.

“The most visible atheists today do things I don’t do,” he explains, like aggressively avoiding BC and AD in favor of CE and BCE, or openly antagonizing religious individuals.

Tyson, by contrast, embraces the historical and cultural value of religion.

He listens to Jesus Christ Superstar every Easter.

He’s fascinated by the power of religious narratives in shaping civilizations.

But don’t mistake that cultural appreciation for belief.

When it comes to belief, Tyson is fiercely loyal to one thing: evidence.

“I don’t see evidence for any kind of active intelligence or divine power operating in the universe,” he says plainly.

“But if you have it—show it to me.

I’m all in.

” It’s not rejection for rejection’s sake.

It’s the scientist in him demanding verifiable truth.

“If someone makes a claim,” Tyson adds, “I owe it to their intellect to tell them if it’s objectively false.

Especially if they’re going to make decisions that affect others based on that belief.”

Tyson doesn’t attack religion—but he doesn’t let it off the hook either.

If someone says something patently untrue based on their faith—like denying evolution, climate change, or astronomy—he sees it as his duty to speak up.

“As an educator, I have an obligation to tell the truth,” he insists.

“I will not stand by while someone makes a decision that’s not in their best interest or in the interest of others—especially if that decision is based on a belief that’s objectively wrong.”

He recounts a moment when a Facebook follower chastised him for saying “Godspeed” to a friend embarking on a NASA mission.

The criticism? Tyson was supposed to be an atheist.

But that, to him, is exactly the problem.

“If my behavior triggers someone to say ‘I thought you were an atheist,’ then clearly I’m not fitting that definition.

” It’s one of the reasons he leans toward agnostic instead—a term he sees as more nuanced and less burdened by public misconception.

Even agnosticism, though, doesn’t fully capture his position.

For Tyson, the issue isn’t about believing or disbelieving—it’s about not knowing, and being honest enough to admit it.

“Agnostic comes closer to what I am,” he says.

“But even that term comes with extra baggage I’m not sure fits.

” He acknowledges that we may never be able to truly prove or disprove the existence of a higher power—and that’s okay.

What matters more, he says, is how we act in the face of the unknown.

Tyson also rejects the idea that not believing in God makes life meaningless.

For him, the absence of a divine overseer doesn’t drain life of purpose—it heightens it.

“If this is the only life we have,” he explains, “then it becomes even more precious.

Even more urgent.

The decisions we make, the love we give, the problems we solve—they all matter more, not less.

” He challenges the idea that morality requires religion, arguing instead that ethics and empathy are rooted in human experience, not divine command.

And yet, Tyson isn’t hostile toward the faithful.

He doesn’t mock, belittle, or shame.

In fact, he praises the cultural expressions of belief—like Jewish families who hold Passover Seders even if they don’t believe in God.

“There are atheist Jews who still leave the door open for Elijah,” he says, chuckling.

“It’s not about literal belief—it’s about tradition, identity, and storytelling.”

But the moment Tyson gets serious is when belief crosses into territory that influences real-world decisions.

“I respect your freedom to believe whatever you want,” he clarifies.

“But if your belief leads you to reject medicine, science, or harm others, then I will absolutely speak up.

That’s not disrespect—that’s responsibility.”

His ultimate message isn’t about tearing down religion.

It’s about clarity.

About holding our beliefs to the same standard we use to test the laws of physics.

About being brave enough to say “I don’t know,” rather than reaching for answers that feel good but aren’t rooted in fact.

“If someone presents evidence for a divine force,” he repeats, “I’m open.

But until then, I remain unconvinced.”

And that’s what makes Neil deGrasse Tyson’s stance so uniquely compelling.

He doesn’t shout.

He doesn’t preach.

He simply looks at the universe—with its chaos, beauty, suffering, and complexity—and says, “Show me.

” In a world dominated by extremes, Tyson’s calm, rational approach cuts through the noise.

He may not believe in God—but he believes in questions.

And maybe that’s where real wisdom begins.