Blessed

This is my high school class ring. It was blessed by a bishop that my step-father knew. I suspect that it was a bigger deal to my parents than it was for me. In fact, I gave my class ring to a boyfriend. When my mom found out she drove me right over to retrieve it. I wore this ring during the second half of my senior year, then it sat in a drawer for the next 27 years.

This is where I bring up issues with my step-father. I can't explain what it was about him and religion. It's like he felt he was better than everyone else because he was in tight with his church, and also had connections with higher levels, like the bishop. He frowned upon those who weren't as religious, and it didn't even matter if you were religious--he always acted like he was better and just "more" religious than everyone else.

So, what became of the ring? I sold it. My step-father, if he were alive, would be so angry to know that I sold the "blessed" ring. My mother wouldn't be too happy either. While I'm grateful that my mother did what she could to give us the "typical" high school experience, I really did not like my high school and don't care to have any memories of it. So the ring is gone. To be honest, I didn't exactly run around advertising proudly that it was blessed. Uncool.

Sorry mom. I really did appreciate it at the time, but it's time for me to close that chapter of my life and move on. Maybe the "blessed" gold will bring someone else good fortune.

You can't "un-see" what you have already seen

I had lunch with a friend, and somehow we got onto the topic of religion. Her book club read, "Heaven is for real." Now, I didn't read the whole book, but early on, I was able to explain away what the parents say their kid experienced when he allegedly, "went to heaven" and met God and deceased relatives.

What I found interesting in my conversation with my friend is that the Catholics in her group were the ones explaining away the kid's story. Really? I tried not to impose my thoughts on the topic because my friend believes in God.

So then the topic of religion continued. She is Methodist, while her husband is Jewish. Their son is being raised Methodist. This friend was telling me how annoyed she was with her mother-in-law who states that she is a Jewish Atheist, and how can you be both.

I can answer that.

If I was pushed to identify with a religion, I would say I was raised Catholic. There are so many years behind that belief. There are so many things that remind me of my experiences, and so many memories--both pleasant and not. There are still things in my life as an Atheist that are affected by my Catholic upbringing. I can't just "turn it off." It's like believing in Santa Claus. At one point in your life you stop believing, but that doesn't stop you from including him in your holiday. It's like you can't erase what you have already experienced that has had a significant impact on your life. It can be really hard to let it go.

"New" Atheists can still go to church, can still "pray" even if it's not in the normal sense of the word, can still follow traditions that they grew up with, and can still "identify" with the faith in which they were raised.

We are not hypocrites and we are not confused. We are acknowledging what we knew then, while being true to what we believe now.

I went to church again

I like the church my boys go to. It's warm, friendly, and rather interesting. I love the music. I love the conversational aspect of the sermon. I love how intimate it all feels.

As I was listening intently to the sermon, I glanced upwards. Right there, clear as could be was a letter A. That is the symbol for an Atheist, if you didn't know. Somehow the wires and the lighting came together to show me a perfect, bright letter A that even mimicked the curve of the Atheist symbol. Message from above maybe? No, just coincidence, and noticeable only by the one person who had no right to be there. If I hadn't researched the Atheist symbol, I would probably have never noticed that bright letter A in the rafters.

Signs. Miracles. Prayer.

What if this is all it is:

• SignsYou only see things that mean something to you.
• MiraclesSimply good fortune.
• PrayerInner-dialogue.

I think people draw strength from various sources, and what works for one person, may not work for another. I know some people are very strong in their faith of God and Jesus (I refer to them as "Jesus-lovers"), and feel the need to worship publicly. Some are less involved, but still seek God's intervention when needed by prayer. Some draw strength from meditation. Some can sit in the sun and think of absolutely nothing and that is their power. So basically, some need "something" and some don't.

So I went to church with my boys. I love that they go because they want to, and not because they have to. I looked around at the children at the service. A few had toys with them. The mother in front of us was trying to engage her son by sharing the bible with him as the pastor talked about certain passages. The girl next to me picked up a bible to flip to the verse in Genesis that the pastor was referencing. One of my sons opened his own personal bible, and the other simply listened.

I wonder if these young people will some day resent having religion forced upon them, or if they will think back fondly to the Sundays on which their parents took the time to involve their kids in the celebration of God. I wonder if I would have felt differently if my experience was more family-oriented.

I always wondered if I screwed up with my kids by not involving religion in our daily lives. I guess I didn't if my boys embraced religion when they were ready, and on their terms. My daughter, another atheist, is smart and curious and questions everything. I love that about her.

Maybe I didn't screw up so bad after all.

I don't believe in funerals

• I think it's unethical to take advantage of people when they are at their weakest.
• I think it's stupid to spend a fortune on a casket that will just rot in the ground.
• I think it's a shame to waste space in the earth by burying bodies.
• I think cremation is the way to go, but keeping ashes is disgusting.
• I think open caskets are gross.

I decided that I don't want a funeral. I don't want to be buried. I don't want a clergyman to talk to the mourners about how God has bigger plans for me and how I'm at peace with God in heaven. That's bullshit. I am donating my body to science. They can use my body in any way they choose, then dispose of it however they wish. The beauty of it is that it won't cost a cent! I can die for free and my kids can keep the thousands of dollars instead! How great is that?!

Okay, that's me.

Others may feel differently. I think of people who have lost loved ones tragically and at a young age. How can you skimp on the funeral? I'd like to think that I would be logical if I was ever unfortunate enough to have that experience. I suppose if you lost a child, you would feel funny cremating him or her. Two of my nieces died very young. Both had open caskets. The circumstances made it seem more proper to go that route. For the baby who died, the family was not charged for the funeral.

I know that the funeral is for the living, not for the deceased. After all, the deceased person certainly has no knowledge of what type of funeral they were given. I understand wanting to honor your deceased loved one, but I want to make it clear and easy on my surviving loved ones. Keep the money, give my body to science, and remember me in photos, not in a casket in the ground and certainly not as ashes on a mantle!

More de-cluttering

I decided to sever our relationship with the Catholic church that my family belonged to. I sent an e-mail explaining that I felt they should no longer waste resources on us when we weren't active. To be honest, we used them to have our three kids baptized. Our church was actually split into two parishes, with our family being moved to the newly built one. We never gave them money. We never read the mailings. We never even saw the inside of it.

I would have loved to have been honest and told them that two members of my family are now Atheist, one doesn't give a rat's ass about religion, and the other two have chosen the church they wish to be a part of which is non-denominational. Instead, I simply said "we" now attend a church closer to us.

Before I sent the email, I researched what one does if they are not affiliated with a church and there is a death that requires a religious service. I found out that the funeral director can recommend a clergyman to perform a service. Sounds pretty impersonal, doesn't it? But when I thought of it, the priest at our Catholic church didn't know us anyway. So what's the difference?

I received a letter from the church acknowledging receipt of my request, and informing me that our family has been removed from their database. I actually felt a little weird about it. All my life I "belonged" to a church. It was always sorta comforting to know it was there even if I wasn't an active member.

Hello... anyone?

It's very frustrating for an atheist who was raised as a Christian to throw away old ideas and habits. It was so ingrained into my brain that I should pray to God. I was a good Christian and I prayed a lot. It's funny how prayer changed for me over the years. It was introduced into the mind of a gullible young child as a tool to get what I wanted, and as long as I was good, my prayers would be answered.

– As a child I prayed for stuff for myself, like toys, or a trip to Disney World.
– As a teen I prayed that the boy I liked would like me in return.
– As a young adult I prayed about my job and my family.
– As a mature adult I prayed for others.
– As a middle-aged adult I prayed for ill-will for the people who pissed me off.

I still find myself saying these little private prayers, "Please God, let [whatever] work out," or "Please God, take that miserable bastard off the face of the earth--he doesn't deserve to take up space here." Item number five in the definition below says it well for an atheist like myself. It's a craving for something. However, all the other definitions reference God or a person. I guess that's why I still find myself saying, "Please God..."