Remembering why I left Christianity

Every once in a while I am reminded that not all Christians are closed-minded, small, angry, judgmental people. I meet people who happen to be Christians and are perfectly wonderful examples of what was likely intended by following the teachings of Jesus.

But then I read news articles about people's rationale for blocking same-sex marriage and safe, legal abortions and reliable birth control and I am reminded once again of why I am an atheist and unashamed of it.

I see people bury their heads in their Bibles, praying for their god to do something for them, allowing themselves--or worse, their children--to stay in difficult or dangerous situations because they think it's where they have to be for their god to teach them some kind of life lesson.

And I'm reminded of why I left Christianity.

I watch a documentary like Kidnapped for Christ* and see the basic rights of human beings violated and ignored and laughed at by people who claim to defend the human rights of the unborn above all else.

And I am glad I have enough sense to step away from the hypocrisy and violence and judgment and oppression that comes from Christianity (and religion--let's not exclude anyone).

I know there are people out there who are good people and happen to follow religious traditions. That's fine. The problem is that those good people aren't the spokespeople for their religions. Instead, they let the loudmouth bigots take the bullhorn and spread lies and hate and make people think that that is what it means to be a Christian, now and forever amen.

When you've got people like this who are getting the attention, what do you expect?

There are so many people who stand by their beliefs in religion at all costs, ignoring the fact that there is a big, wide world outside of their pastor's pulpit that answers the questions they're not allowed to ask.

Sorry, I'd rather know about the world around me based on the expertise of proven scientists and authorities in their fields than become convinced that the people who contradict me must be conspiring against my children (see link above).

Thanks, though.






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*Available on Netflix.

Living a secular life

There is someone in my life* who recently asked if we'll be taking the munchkins to church on Easter.

No.

This person was surprised, and didn't understand why we wouldn't take the kids to church at least for Easter and Christmas. This person suggested that the kids need at least some religion** as a foundation for their lives.

No.

When the munchkins get older, if they start asking questions about religion and spirituality, I am happy to answer questions from the perspective of "this is what some people believe." But just as a Christian family would not likely take their children to a Mosque to teach them about Islam, I don't feel the need to take my kids to a church to teach them about Christianity.

We'll be spending Thanksgiving with the person who asked if we're taking the kids to church for Easter, and this person asked if Puck would be willing to say a blessing at the start of our Thanksgiving meal. So we're teaching the munchkins a short, non-religious blessing/rhyme that they can say, and I told the person that it will be a non-religious blessing, not a prayer.

I live a secular life, and so do the munchkins. I teach them how to be good people and make good choices without relying on fear tactics and threats of eternal damnation to get results. I teach them to be open-minded and non-judgmental toward all people and creatures rather than assuming that different is bad/"misguided"/"backslidden."

I am striving to raise Puck and Tink to be Good People, and I'm doing it without religion. Because religion doesn't have a corner on the morality market. You shouldn't need a Bible or threats of punishment to be a good person. We teach them it's important to be kind and compassionate out of respect for other people, not because they're afraid of what will happen if they don't. And that works for us.

There is nothing wrong with living a secular life and teaching the munchkins the same. When they're older and can make informed decisions for themselves about what they believe, they are welcome to find a church community or faith practice and follow it. But for now, we are a secular family.






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*Please note that this person is a wonderful person and someone in my life that I respect and love. I don't think this person knows I'm an atheist, just that I'm not really religious. There are no ill feelings about the conversation at all.

**Read: Christianity

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain

There's no question that Christianity (some brands more than others) use fear tactics to get people to believe, follow, and obey blindly.

This is summed up perfectly in a quote from Dawkins's God Delusion in an argument I've heard many times from friends and family members.

The great French mathematician Blase Pascal reckoned that, however long the odds against God's existence might be, there is an even larger asymmetry in the penalty for guessing wrong. You'd better believe in God, because if you are right you stand to gain eternal bliss and if you are wrong it won't make any difference anyway. On the other hand, if you don't believe in God and you turn out to be wrong you get eternal damnation, whereas if you are right it makes no difference. On the face of it the decision is a no-brainer. Believe in God. (Dawkins,  p. 130)

You better believe in god because if you don't and there is a god, you'll be damned for all eternity for your disbelief.

I remember when I was younger and active in my dad's FIB church. Fear of hell was used so frequently that most people didn't even realize they were doing it. You ask a question that starts with "why," and the answer usually conveys something along the lines of "So you don't go to hell." The bigger the "why," the bigger the damnation. After all, if you're questioning the Bible and the will of god, you must not have a right relationship with him. You must not be a real Christian. You have to have faith and believe everything that comes from the mouth of the pastor, or else your soul will burn for all eternity.

It's precisely these kinds of fear tactics that work so well at turning me away from belief in god. If the Christian god is truly a loving and benevolent god who only wants people to love him in return, why the threat of damnation? And why eternal? Wouldn't a forgiving god be, you know....forgiving?

It's an idle threat meant to distract people (through fear) of the implausibility of believe in an all-knowing, all-powerful creator being. When people start to question, they are told to just believe, to ignore their questions and doubts, and remember that if they don't believe--and believe the right way--they will burn for all eternity.

Sound familiar?



And when you pull back the curtain--finally--and see the overwhelmed old white guy (no offense intended) scrambling to try and maintain his intimidation over others, everything changes.

The fear of hell doesn't hold quite the same intimidation when you realize it's an empty threat.

I much preferred the Scarecrow. At least you knew he was only faking being scary.






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Dawkins, Richard. (2006). The God Delusion. Boston: Mariner Books.

Born to go to hell?

Image source

When I spoke with my dad earlier this year about being in a relationship with Bo, I asked him point-blank what his feelings were about me being gay and in a relationship. The comment he kept making over and over was "Biblically, it's wrong." It was as if his personal feelings didn't matter, and he was focusing on what he has been taught that the Bible and his religion say about the matter.

His final conclusion was that he considered my sexuality to be something that I have chosen that he doesn't agree with, and compared it to one of my siblings living with a significant other out of wedlock.

The comparison irritated me. I told him not to compare me to my siblings on this matter because I did not choose to be gay, while my siblings did choose their lifestyles (living with the people they're dating, smoking, tattoos, etc.*). He believes in a creator god, so he believes that god created all people. Following that logic, his god made me this way.

That concept was a big struggle for me in speaking with my dad. He goes to a FIB** church, so homosexuality is condemned, hands down. There is no gray area on that. And yet, science proves that it's not a choice, which means god made me that way. And if I'm going to hell for being gay, does that mean god made me to go to hell, and that despite any free will I might have, I'm going to go to hell?***

These are the kinds of questions I once asked and was told that I had to have faith. Or that I had the questions because I didn't have a right relationship with god. Or that "some things are just mysteries."

Of course, I suppose my error is in the "science proves it's not a choice" part. Because the Bible. After all, who is science to say that my lifestyle is not a choice when Pastor Bible-Scholar says it is, in fact, a choice and the result of my sinful, sinful nature. Those of the FIB (and other denominations) say that I don't have to go to hell if I just change who I am. Because science doesn't stand up to the Bible.

And this all assumes that an eternity of damnation is actually a viable threat of punishment.

Which assumes that I have the desire to believe out of fear of eternal damnation.

Then again, why would I believe in a god that created me in a way that condemns me to hell?






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*I know. But this is from my dad's perspective, okay?

**Fundamental, independent Baptist

***I know not all brands of Christianity condemn gays to hell. Some are indifferent, and many are non-judgmental and accepting. This post is speaking specifically to FIB.

My renewed dedication to living authentically

A couple of weeks ago, a comment was put on my blog. The comment was a link to a blog post from a Catholic blogger who claims to be "struggling with same-sex attraction" and in response to my post "Don't love me anyway." The post was written way back in April, so I'm not sure why the comment is only showing up lately, but it is.

I have read this post a few times (even downloading it with the intention of printing it and making notes in the margins), and have been very conflicted about responding to it. The more I read it, the angrier I became about not only the specifics of the post, but about the whole idea of it in general. Each new idea written by this blogger had me shaking my head, thinking "No, that's not it at all" when she assumed she knew why I reacted the way I did to two people--one of whom is my father--saying they "love me anyway" when I came out to them.

I could write an entire series of posts on this. I could quote the Bible and Biblical scholars and scientists and psychologists. I could spend a great deal of screen space explaining why this blogger's assumptions about my reasoning, thought processes, and what's in my heart is flat-out wrong.

But it just doesn't matter.

I stand by the decisions I have made in my life. I haven't always taken the easy path, but I am committed to living authentically as myself, and raising my children to do the same.

I am gay, and I'm not ashamed of that. I don't feel guilty about living a gay lifestyle. I'm not doing anything wrong.

And yes, I was hurt by the comment from those two people in my life, but not at all for the reasons you think. And I will continue to be hurt by those kinds of comments each and every time I hear them.

I may still address the issues brought up in this post in the future (in a different context than feeling the need to defend myself against the assumptions made in that open letter). But for now, I'll leave the post where it is and know that this open letter is terribly misguided for countless reasons.

As a final thought, I have linked the post above. If you choose to read it and contribute to the conversation, I urge you to be kind in your comments. Stand up for what you believe in, but please don't be ugly or mean when you post. There's already too much ugliness and meanness in the world for people with good intentions to add to it.

Have you found a church yet?

I talk to my dad pretty often. Whenever I'm feeling particularly hermit-y and need a human connection, he's good for a rambling conversation about life, the universe, and everything.

And, inevitably, the state of my Florida church membership. Or rather, lack thereof.

Apparently, my dad (and some of my extended family) are convinced that the success or failure of my life in Florida is wholly dependent on whether or not I hold membership at a Bible-believing, Bible-practicing church (read: IFB). It's the only way to make friends (for myself and the kids), and the only way for me to have a community. Apparently.

But I know it's more than that. According to my dad, you can't be a Christian if you don't attend church services. Ideally, three or more times a week. (Of course, Sunday school and morning worship count as once because, you know, you can't just go to one or the other. It has to be both.) The fact that I am not regularly attending a church and haven't applied for membership at a church means I'm not living as a good Christian. Chances are, he's worried I'm backsliding* and at risk of doing something stupid like becoming an atheist.

Really, it's another reminder of how important that aspect of life is to my dad and his family. In my family's eyes, finding a new home church when you move is on the same level as getting a new driver's license and changing your address.

But it's not about finding a community or making new friends, or even finding "good people." It's about following the rules.

Christians go to church.

In my dad's mind, I'm not really settled here until I have a home church and attend regularly. Until I'm a member and tithe my income. Not to grow as a person but to do the right things.

It's too bad the people pushing me to find a church aren't concerned with what the "right things" really should be.






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*For those not in on the lingo, "backsliding" is the term that applies to someone who is a born-again Christian but is making choices that are not in line with the teachings of the church, and behaving like a non-Christian. This can apply to anything from rejecting church teachings to drinking alcohol to women wearing pants depending on the particular teachings of the church.

There's a reason they call him "the Science Guy."

Last night, after the munchkins went to bed, I watched the debate between Bill Nye and Ken Ham at the Creation Museum. I wasn't sure what to expect after reading some of the criticism that arose out of Nye's agreement to debate Ham, but I'm glad I watched it. It was educational, frustrating, and a good reminder of why I am an atheist.

On a side note, did anyone else notice that Nye referred to Ham as "Mr. Ham," and Ham consistently referred to Nye as "Bill"? Maybe a minor point to some, but it shows the difference in levels of respect on the stage. Just sayin'.

I admit that there is a lot about science I don't know. But that being said, it was clear to me that Nye won. (Then again, maybe I'm a little biased. After all, bowties are cool.) There are two big reasons I say this: unanswered questions and "because the Bible."

Throughout the debate, there were points raised by Ham that Nye addressed in his responses, asking specifically for clarification, evidence, or further explanation. Many of these issues that were raised--central to discounting Ham's argument--went unanswered. And not just accidentally. Because toward the end of the debate, it seemed that Ham was purposely avoiding answering some of Nye's questions in favor of bringing up additional points he thought would help support his argument.

When he did address the questions raised, it seemed his favorite response was "because the Bible." Which brings me to my second point.

I'm going to be honest with you. When someone engages in a scientific discussion and tries to refute proven scientific evidence with "because the Bible," I start to feel a little stabby. The evidence Ham provided was based on a book he admitted in the debate contains poetry and literature and is not to be taken wholly literally.*

I'm sorry, but when a scientist admits we don't know certain things about the origin of the universe, and then you say, "We do because the Bible," you lose credibility to me.

The issue for debate was whether or not Ham's creation theory is a viable model. Based on the debate, the answer is no. Ham had the burden to prove creation as a viable model--scientifically--and he didn't do it. He didn't provide scientific evidence, and he didn't refute Nye's evidence.

And, let's be honest, Nye proved last night that the math just doesn't add up. That's all there is to it.

In other news, I'm going to justify all my words, actions, and behavior because the Doctor.






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*As a writer/reader, that tells me it has an unreliable narrator. And if so, there's no telling what can be believed and what can't. And that's just looking at it as a work of literature, for story's sake, not as a work to be believed and followed as big-t-truth.

Silence is complicity

My father is an active member of an IFB church in northern Illinois. He goes to Sunday school and Sunday morning services, leads the youth group, and even went on a missions trip to South Dakota this past summer. Active member.

When I left the IFB church but was still Christian, I made the decision to still attend services at my dad's church when I was visiting him over a weekend. I disagreed with the teachings of the denomination, but was still Christian and found value in the services. In addition, I didn't want to start conflict with my dad (or extended family) by drawing that line in the sand and not attending services.

Even after I came out as gay, I attended IFB services when I was at my dad's house. I know what my dad's preacher thinks about homosexuality, but out of respect for my father, I attended services.

When I believed in a god, I could set aside the IFB position on certain issues (homosexuality, gender equality, etc.) and apply my own interpretations to the crux of the message for my own life. I could ignore what made me angry for my dad.

Now, as an atheist, I won't do it anymore.

I still have respect for my father because he is my father. However, I think that, in this case, silence is complicity. Regardless of what I'm thinking while sitting in a pew at that church, or how I really feel, I believe that by even attending services, I'm sending the message that I condone the teachings, even if I don't agree with them.

One thing I learned many, many years ago in Sunday school that has stuck with me is that "your walk talks louder than your talk talks."

I can say I'm an atheist and an advocate for equal rights, but I believe that the action of attending services at a church that goes directly against what I say I stand for is more powerful. How can I claim to be an advocate for equal rights and support (through attendance) a church that is known for preaching inequality?

In Christianity, people are taught that your faith comes before all else, and that you should never be afraid to stand up for your beliefs regardless of what other people around you say or think or believe. Don't bow to peer pressure and stand for what you know to be right.

Well, as an atheist and supporter of universal equality, I believe the same thing. I will stand for what I believe in regardless of what the people around me--including family--believe or say or do. I won't pretend that I believe in a god or that I support IFB teachings even if I have family members who would disown me over it. And by not standing up against it, I am telling people--including family--that I think what they believe is okay or fine or even good. I can't do that.

For far too long, I let my fear of making waves keep me from taking a stand for things I know to be right. I've made myself miserable and, in some cases, sick because of it.

Maybe it's because my eyes have been truly opened to religion (and Christianity in particular), but I just can't bring myself to go into that church anymore.* I can't pretend that what the preacher proclaims as big-T-truth is acceptable, especially when there is so, so much hypocrisy in that particular brand of Christianity.

I don't know what will happen when/if my father finds out I'm an atheist. He could disown me. (Part of me expected that to happen when I came out to him.) After all, in his world, atheism is defiance to God and the worst of offenses. Sins can be forgiven, but atheism is a permanent separation from God.

But, just as my dad would be willing to let go of friends and family in order to stand for his beliefs, I am willing to let go of friends and family in order to stand for what I believe. I can keep my relationship with my dad separate from any relationship with a higher power. I hope he can, too.






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*Although, my sister and I discussed it, and we decided that if I do ever go back to my dad's church for a service, I should wear a men's suit and rainbow tie.

You have to be willing to suspend disbelief

One of the clients I work with is for an educational website. I create educational resources for teachers and students to use when they study novels/books. It's a great client, and I really love doing it.

One of the topics I covered for this site recently was willing suspension of disbelief. For those who don't know, willing suspension of disbelief is the reader's acceptance of the author's world as it is created regardless of the likelihood the world could exist in reality. Essentially it means that when you read something set in a world outside of reality (particularly in science fiction and fantasy) you accept the constructs of the author's world for the sake of the story. Magic is real. Dragons exist.

So I've realized that willing suspension of disbelief is a wonderful analogy for religious faith. People who believe set aside what is known and proven in the world to accept the constructs of their belief system in order to believe it. The world was created in six days. One man built an ark that saved his family and two of every animal on earth from a flood.

When it comes to literature, people easily accept the world as the author creates it. We know we're reading fiction, so it's okay that these impossible realities exist on the pages of the book. When I read Ender's Game recently for work, I didn't bat an eye that children are sent to train for a war with an alien race.

But the difference is that, generally, people don't base their world views on the fictional worlds they read about. They know that, in reality, what they're reading just doesn't work, so there's no sense in accepting it as fact.

Then why is The Holy Bible held up as reality, while the Harry Potter series is not? Why are the stories of Noah and Job and Jesus heralded as true, while Harry Potter continues to be seen as a fictional character? After all, at the core, both are stories of good vs. evil, are they not?

One important thing to remember when it comes to willing suspension of disbelief is that it is willing suspension of disbelief. The reader knows that the world created inside the book cannot exist outside of it, but believes it for the sake of the story. And I think that's what happens when it comes to people who believe in Christianity (particularly those who take the Bible as the literal, inerrant word of god).

Their logic-brain says, "There's no scientific evidence for this. The stuff in this book can't have happened in real life. It doesn't make sense."

Their faith-brain responds, "Shut up. I believe!"

They are willing to ignore the reality of their world for the sake of believing the stories they read in the Bible. They just take the stories a step further and apply them to their actual lives.

Just as, I suppose, there are people eagerly waiting for their letters from Hogwarts.*

You have to be willing to ignore what your brain is telling you is not real to have that kind of faith. Especially when what you believe thumbs its nose at what has been scientifically and tangibly proven. But, I think, to have a real, fulfilled, successful and well-adjusted life, you have to be willing, at some point, to put the book down and come back to reality.






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*No offense.

Don't love me anyway.

I've been sitting on this post for a while. I've written it a few times a few different ways, and each time I set it aside because it didn't feel right or it wasn't the right time or something else kept me from posting it.

When I started coming out to friends and family almost two years ago, the response was largely positive. So far (to my knowledge) no one has disowned me because I'm gay, and most of the responses have been something along the lines of "Okay" or "Cool."

However, there are two responses I'd like to highlight because they each said--in different ways--the same thing: I love you anyway.

One person, who we'll call Brobee, is a male family member. The other, who we'll call Toodee, is a female friend.

Brobee was one of the first people I told, partly because he's family. The conversation went better than I expected. I expected Brobee to turn his back on me when I told him, due in large part to his religious  upbringing (read: IFB*). He didn't hang up on me. He didn't "disown" me. He was quiet and confused. He said he didn't understand how or why I would "choose this lifestyle," and I tried to explain that it's not a choice, it's just how I am. And he essentially said he loves me anyway.

Shortly after that conversation I was visiting Brobee. We were talking about TV shows (or something), and out of nowhere he said, "You know George Takei? He's a gay." I'll add that point to the "he's trying" column.

Toodee is a very dear friend of mine. We've been friends for fourteen years. We don't live near each other, and don't talk nearly as often as I'd like, but we're there for each other, and we know we can count on each other when we need to. When I told her, she said she doesn't agree with my "lifestyle choice" (there's that phrase again), but that she loves me anyway. That was really the last we spoke of it, and for my part, I don't feel like it's hindered our friendship at all.

But there was always something about those initial conversations with Toodee and Brobee that bothered me. At first I thought it was that the conversations were awkward, or that I was still nervous about coming out. But what really bothered me was that sentiment that they "love me anyway."

When you add that word "anyway" to a statement, it implies a "but" at the beginning. There's something that should be, but there is this anyway.

So that means if I tell you I'm gay, and you say you love me anyway, you're implying the real sentiment is "You're gay, but I love you anyway."

When you look at it like that, the whole sentiment suggests that there is something wrong with being gay, and the person giving the sentiment is setting that aside or ignoring it to love you in spite of it. And that's really why I have a problem with "I love you anyway."

Brobee and Toodee are both followers of Christianity. As part of their beliefs they are, according to the Bible, which I believe they both take pretty literally, commanded to love others**. But here's the thing. The Bible doesn't give any conditions to that. There are no caveats or addendums or exceptions. Just... love your neighbor. Love others.

Jesus even takes his "new command" a step further when he gives it to his disciples. He says to love others as he loves them. And I'm pretty sure that the Jesus people follow in Christianity loved unconditionally, right? I mean, I don't remember any parables where Jesus is telling the disciples about some poor gay guy that's going to hell because he's gay. I don't think I ever read about Jesus turning his back on anyone. And Jesus never said, "When you meet someone who's a sinner, love them anyway."

Even if you are one of those people who believes that as a lesbian I am sinning because of the way I was made, my sin should never be a part of my relationship with another person, especially a Christian. Doesn't Christianity teach that my sin is between me and god? So what do you have to do with it? Why is my gayness or anything else any of your business?

See, the thing is, when you tell me that you love me anyway, that you love me despite what your narrow interpretation of a worldview says is wrong behavior, you're being incredibly patronizing. I can almost feel the pat on the head when you say it. "You're gay? Oh, that's okay. I love you, anyway."

I am a strong, independent, proud lesbian. I am not ashamed of who I am, or the path I've traveled to get here. You can't make me feel bad for living authentically. I don't need people to say they love me out of some obligation to their closed-minded beliefs. I don't need to know that I'm accepted for something that's absolutely out of my control.

I am gay. And I don't put any conditions on it.






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*Independent Fundamental Baptist

**Leviticus 19:17-19; Matthew 22:38-40; Mark 12:30-34; Luke 10:26-28; John 13:34; Romans 13:8-10; Romans 13:9-11; Galations 5:13-15; James 2:7-9 (from a quick search, but I'm sure there are more)

How my faith made me kind of hate myself

I am a strong, successful, independent woman. I work hard at my craft, make a living from my writing, have a good support system of friends and family, and I'm doing what I have to do on my own to take care of my munchkins.

I'm doing pretty damn well, and I'm happy with where I am, and the direction my life is headed. Life is good.

I've come a long way from where I was.

There were moments in my faith in which I was doing everything I was supposed to do. I was reading the Bible and going to church and praying and dressing modestly and going through all the steps I was supposed to. And I was miserable. I was told by my pastor and my Bible study books and my Christian friends that if I had a "right relationship" with God, everything would be good. I'd have a happy, healthy, fulfilled life. And I was miserable.

I believe a lot of it had to do with the fact that in the brand of Christianity I followed, anything I could ever do was not good enough. I would always and forever be a sinner with a sinful nature, drawn to sin sin sin. And when I did succeed, it wasn't me that succeeded, it was the Almighty God who gave me the power, who did it for me. Because the Bible teaches that humans are incapable of doing it on their own.

You can't take credit for your successes because you didn't do it on your own.

But if you fail, if things suck, it's your fault because you didn't believe enough or the right way.

For someone who was trapped in depression and anxiety for quite a while when I was a teenager and young adult, I can tell you that taking the blame for the bad and not being able to take credit for the good can really mess with your head.

Christianity does that. It's designed to teach people they are not and will never be good enough. You can't have "salvation" without Jesus Christ. You can't have a good life without right faith.

And since you're a sinner and will always be tempted to sin and be "bad," you can never be good enough. You will never be the person you're supposed to be through Christianity.

And I felt that fully. I wanted so, so much to be a good, happy Christian. You know, the kind they show on the brochures when they try to get you to join up. And as hard as I tried, I just couldn't do it.

I was miserable.

Because not only was my life not where it was supposed to be, but my faith was teaching me that it was my own fault. And I hated myself for it.

I don't feel that way anymore. I know that I am good enough just the way I am. I know that my successes are the result of the work I do. I know that when I fail, it's okay and sometimes it's not my fault. I know that I'm not fated to be a "sinner," or inherently bad. My life is what I make of it.

I don't hate myself anymore. Funny how that worked out.

A rant-y post about a recent conversation about religion

I had a phone conversation with a close family member recently about the show Duck Dynasty. This family member had attended a morning worship service near his home, and Jep Robertson (a member of the family that is the focus of the show) was there answering questions by the pastor of the church.

One particular story this family member related to me was that, at one point, A&E wanted to cut the family prayer, which is seen at the end of each episode prior to Phil saying "in Jesus' name." Being evangelical Christians, the family was opposed to this. Phil's response was to pray aloud for the "Hollywood types" who wanted to do this editing. Apparently, the issue of cutting "in Jesus' name" was not brought up again.

The family member who told me this story was happy about it, having the belief that the reason the "Hollywood types" (which apparently are equated to godless heathens in this person's mind) wanted to cut Jesus out of the prayer when it aired was so they would not offend "one person." However, this family member claims it's ridiculous when "fifty-eight percent of people want it there."

After the conversation ended, I couldn't stop thinking about that statistic that was thrown out so casually. This person was using it as a debate point: 58% of Americans want to see Christianity in secular television shows.

The fact that this person made that statement doesn't surprise me. This particular family member is entrenched in a world view that begins and ends at the pulpit. This person doesn't express an opinion about anything until the church pastor preaches a sermon on it. This person doesn't think about anything beyond what the pastor says to think about, and from the perspective the pastor says to think about it.

One of the things the pastor has preached is that Christianity* is increasing in the United States, as well as in the world. As times are getting more difficult in society with increasing unemployment and financial uncertainty, more people are turning to the Christian god for answers, help, support. And since the pastor says it, it must be true. I mean, he's a pastor. What possible motive could he have for trying to keep people in the pews every week?

Here's the thing. Religion in general--and this brand of Christianity in particular--does a very good job of keeping people from thinking for themselves. When they face anything in life, they blindly trust that their higher power has everything under control. When they discuss politics or social issues or anything, really, they parrot back what has been taught to them on Sunday mornings.

They don't investigate further because they believe every word that comes from their pastor's mouth is the inerrant big-T-truth that is clearly what their higher power intended to be the indisputable opinion regarding that particular issue. They don't know if they have a real stance on anything because they take their pastor's stance as representative of their faith, and they can't go against their faith, after all.

My family member's comment that the majority of Americans want to see Christianity represented in secular programs is representative of that person's decision to ignore everything that is not permitted and/or demanded by the church, or label it as being from the devil.

And, because this is the way many religions work, people who think that way (or rather, don't think) raise their children to believe the same way. For generations, children grow up to believe that any doubt they have about god or what they're told in church is really Satan trying to bring them down. I was actually told this in a youth group meeting when I was in high school.

It wasn't until I was in a humanities class at a liberal arts college that I felt comfortable asking myself hard questions about what I believe and why. And it's taken almost ten years since then that I've been able to let go of beliefs I was mired in because of a misplaced obligation to my family.

I stayed mired in my faith because I'd been told from a very young age that belief in this supreme being was somehow better for me, that my life would fall into place as long as I believed the right way. And when I tried to question the validity of what I was being told (you know, thinking critically), I was told that my faith was being tested and I had to stand firm. Or, in a particularly helpful moment, that if I believe I'd be "safe." (Essentially, a family member told me it would be better to believe and be wrong than to not believe and be wrong.)

Looking back, it amazes me how much scare tactics are used in religion. If you don't do and say and believe the "right" things (which are determined by a fallible man's interpretation of a fallible and mistranslated book), you'll be punished not only in this life, but for all of eternity. Did you know my high school depression was the result of not having a "right relationship with God"? Because that's what my secular therapist told me.

One of the many problems with people who are entrenched in their faiths is that they allow themselves to lose perspective. They don't question things. In fact, they're told not to question things because it's all part of God's Plan. Who are they to question their god? And so, because of that, they take the church and the pastor at their words, firmly believing that Christianity is growing, that more and more people in our country want to go back to the values of the '50s, that the majority of people in the country don't want same-sex marriage (despite legislative evidence to the contrary).**

That's why I'm proud to be an atheist. I'm proud that I research issues before I take a stance on them. I look for more information rather than taking the first story at its word. I read and learn and think critically about the world around me. And I don't believe that a man with a theological degree or a book or an invisible entity (that doesn't communicate directly, by the way) has all the answers to anything. No one does.

End rant.





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*By "Christianity," I mean conservative, Protestant, King James Bible, subservient and silent women Christianity. Because, to this pastor, anything and everything else is "false teaching."

**Almost there, Hawaii!

What's Going On?

It's been a while since I've expressed my frustration with education.  I'm a bit more separated from it, but now that I've got a little java bean to think about, I find myself thinking about education options (public, private, religious, home education) for the (near) future.

Let me give you a little background.  Growing up, I always went to public schools.  Then, after a couple of years in a community college, I went to a small, private college loosely affiliated with the Methodist church.  (At the college, I was able to minor in Liberal Arts, which I greatly enjoyed.)  My husband also always went to public schools.  Then, for college, he went to the same small, private college as I did.

So Hubby and I don't have an elitist private school background or anything like that.  We went to public schools from kindergarten through high school graduation, and we did well all the way through college.

And yet, I was disturbed when I read this.

Here's the deal.  

I'm not trying to convert anyone to anything.  

Whether you're Christian, atheist, Muslim, humanist, or whatever, the simple fact is that history, art, music, literature, and even sociology and psychology has been shaped by Christianity.  And without some knowledge of Christianity, specifically the Bible, many of the lessons taught in English Literature, history, art, or music courses are flat, or even missed completely.

Regardless of your religious beliefs (or lack thereof), it's important to have some knowledge of religion in order to understand other things.  Just as I wouldn't read works by great scientists without first having a base understanding of their fields, you can't delve into literature without a base understanding of the mindset of the author(s).  And in many cases, this includes Christianity.  In the BBC article linked above, Poet Laureate Andrew Motion says:

'I've always been concerned about the levels of not-knowing since I started teaching, but quite recently I had a very bad experience of trying to teach some of my, in other respects, extremely good students about Paradise Lost.

They knew so little about the context in which the poem was written and about the references that the poem itself makes that it was very difficult even to get beyond go in talking about it.' [sic]

If you don't even have a frame of reference for Paradise Lost, how can you get more subtle references that give you a little extra depth for getting them?

However, you shouldn't limit yourself to the Bible in order to "get" literature, history, art, and music.  There's a whole wide world out there of different religions, philosophies, and schools of thought that have greatly influenced the minds of the world.  And in order to appreciate what those minds have to offer, it's important to first appreciate what those minds took the time to learn.

Fiction is great.  But every once in a while, it might be a good idea to pick up some nonfiction, too.

Motion says about Biblical references:

'...these stories achieve archetypal status because they tell us recurring truths about human nature that is a pleasure and an important thing in and of itself.'

Even if you don't believe that the stories in the Bible are true, they have become like the ancient myths that serve as a jumping-off point for many other stories.  The characters in the stories have become standards by which other characters are measured.

Think about it.  What comes to mind when I say someone's life is Job-like?  What do you think of when I call someone "a Jezebel"?

If you have no familiarity with the Bible, these character references mean nothing, and how can you understand the image I'm trying to portray?

Sorry, folks, but there's more to literature than meets the eye.  It's not just poetry that has deeper meanings.