Warning: long, rambling, navel-gazing post ahead. I wrote this several months ago, but it’s been sitting in my Drafts since then. After some comments I made over at Daryl’s today, I figured I might as well go ahead and post it.
Confession can be a pretty loaded word to someone who was raised as a Catholic. It used to strike fear into me like nothing else. Just to clarify for anyone not familiar with it, “confession” is the Catholic sacrament in which you admit your sins to god in order to be forgiven. I believe “Reconciliation” is the actual name of the sacrament, but it’s commonly known as confession. The thing I always hated about going to confession is that you had to tell your sins to the priest, who is sort of god’s proxy as far as forgiving goes. (Kind of like the mall Santas who stand in for the real Santa, because he can’t be everywhere, right?) This never really made sense to me. The question that always lingered in the back of my mind was “if god knows everything, and will forgive me if I’m truly sorry, why do I have to go tell someone else what I did in order to be forgiven?” As a teenager I voiced that question to my parents, teachers (at my Catholic high school) and even to clergy members themselves, but I never really got a satisfactory answer.
I mention this now because when I look back on my life and the way I’ve been influenced by religion, I realize that the questions in my childhood were just the seed from which more questions and doubts eventually sprang. Questions and doubts that I tried for years to eliminate, or at other times just pushed back in my mind and ignored. Its only been in the last few years that I started to really think about the possibility that these doubts might be something other than my lack of “faith”. And its only been in the last six months or so that I’ve been honest enough with myself to admit that I don’t believe in god. And its only now that I’ve gathered up the courage to admit this to anyone other than my wife.
I am a little afraid of the consequences of letting it be known that I’m an atheist. (Technically, I’m not sure whether I’m atheist or agnostic. It depends on whose definition you go with. That’s probably a whole separate post, too.) Will my mom read this and keel over with a heart attack? What will our friends think? Will they shun us? We now belong to a really great inclusive homeschooling group, and even though they don’t care about members’ religious beliefs, I still wonder if it will it cause them (even subconsciously) to look at us differently. On the other hand, the more rational part of me also realizes that for the most part, nobody really cares what I believe.
It is a little freaky admitting to my atheism after belonging to a religion for most of my life. Now I’m much more aware of the extent that religion (and particularly Christianity) pervades our culture. From “God Bless America”, to the pledge of allegiance, to Jesus fish emblems, to people saying to pray for good weather, to Gideon bibles in hotel rooms, it’s like there are scraps of religion everywhere that I never really noticed before. I’m not always sure how to react to it, either. We went to a funeral a few months ago at the church I grew up in. During the sermon, the priest was talking about how getting to heaven was our goal. He said that if there was no heaven, he’d just as soon be on the beach in Mexico, drinking Coronas. All I could think was how misguided that was. You see, I haven’t changed since I’ve realized that I don’t believe in god. I’m still the same person. I still have the same morals. I still love my family. I still make sacrifices for others. I didn’t turn into a self-centered, hedonistic idiot just because there’s no promise of an afterlife if I’m good. If anything, it has made me more appreciative of what I have now and more enthusiastic about how I spend my life. (And at least now I don’t feel guilty when I say “Jesus H. Christ” or laugh at the LOLcat Bible.)
I’m not even sure about how this changes things within our family. Christine and I have actually talked a lot about religion and god over the past couple years. I know Christine has issues with organized religion and, like me, her personal beliefs are changing. But I don’t think she’s in the same place as me, either.
What I’m really unsure about is how to introduce the idea to the kids. For the most part we’ve raised them Catholic. In past years we would go to church every week. At other times it was more sporadic. We stopped going altogether about a year and a half ago because we felt like hypocrites when we did attend. At the time, we explained to the kids that we didn’t really agree with all the things the church stood for. We told them that not going to church doesn’t make you a bad person; and let them know that if they still wanted to go, we’d take them. Then, other than a few short conversations with Jessica, we pretty much didn’t mention it again. But how do I approach them with this new angle? “Hey kids, I’ve decided that there is no such thing as god. So, ya’ want to go out and kick the soccer ball around?” I don’t want to push my beliefs (or lack thereof) on them. I want them to hear all the sides of the issue and when they’re old enough, to make up their own minds. I will have to continue to ponder this.