I was in a meeting for our diversity team at work. It was the kickoff meeting where we were welcoming new members. We went around the room for introductions, and each of us shared one "diverse" thing about ourselves. One person shared that she followed a religion called, "Bahai," that she recently started following after being raised Catholic. She's very into this religion, which is pretty cool.

Since I love learning about different religions, I did a little reading about Bahai. I liked what I read.

When my turn came, I said there is nothing really that diverse about me (nothing fascinating, anyway), so I said, "I'm not religious at all, but I love learning about different religions." And then I looked at my Hindu friend sitting beside me and we both smiled. She so very openly shares information about her faith, and I love that about her.

Why can't I say, "Atheist?" I am an Atheist. I should not be afraid to share that.

I still think there is a stigma around it. It's not that I'm afraid that people won't like me. If people don't like me because I don't believe in deities, then that's their problem, not mine. My fear is shutting people out, or having them believe that I'm against all religions (which I'm not--well, maybe Catholicism).

A funeral mass

I attended the funeral of my husband's aunt and uncle. They died about six months apart, and each was cremated. The aunt was the one that was the more dedicated Catholic. According to the Catholic church, in order to be buried in a Catholic cemetery, they had to have a Catholic mass. So they did. It turned out that even though they were being buried together, with one service and one priest officiating, the family was required to pay for two funerals. WTG Catholic church! Gotta pay for those legal fees somehow I suppose.

The Catholic mass is long, boring, and robotic. I hate it. I think I've always hated it, even when I was a good Catholic. I remember all the prayers and responses since I've had so many years of it being crammed into my head, but this time I didn't say one word. It wouldn't have been genuine. It's not like anyone noticed or cared. Most people didn't speak or sing anyway.

The sermon was nice. The priest seemed to know the deceased, and spoke of them from memory. Most of the sermon was more of a trip down memory lane instead of being about the scripture that was just read. I thank him for that!

When it came time to kneel, I didn't. I probably should have, but it didn't feel right to me. I wondered if the family members who know I'm atheist were looking to see what I'd do during the mass. But I didn't really care.

At the reception afterwards, I talked to one of the daughters of the deceased and told her how lovely the service was. And I meant it. I've been to so many services where the agenda was teaching the scripture, and not so much about the life of the deceased. I'm sure part of it is that these priests probably don't really know their parishioners well enough to speak of them so they use a generic sermon.

It reminds me of my mother's funeral. She wasn't a regular at Sunday mass, and I didn't get the sense that she spent any time after mass talking to the priests. So when we had a church service for her, I was interested in seeing how it was handled since they probably didn't know her.

We met with the priest beforehand to plan the service. That meant choosing readings and hymns from a little pamphlet. The bible means nothing to me so I was basically going to pick something short and sweet. My son volunteered to do the readings, but he wanted to choose his own, rather than be limited to that pamphlet. The priest said no. I was rather shocked by that. So my son had to read something he didn't really want to and I know why. It's because there are carefully scripted sermons behind the readings in the pamphlet. The sermon would be generic. Perfect for a parishioner that he didn't even know. Easy for the priest. I was actually pissed about this. But for me, the mass was just a formality. It was expected. It was more for the living than the deceased. The people in attendance had no clue it was a scripted, generic sermon. But I know. Now I know, and I will never look at a Catholic funeral mass the same.

Believer versus non-believer

Non-believer article on CNN | Believer response to non-believer on CNN

CNN published an article that could potentially be tagged as offensive. Finally an Atheist speaks. I immediately read the article, which was well-written, and pretty open-minded, in my opinion. The author basically said she made her choice in how to raise her children, but she didn't actually attack believers. Well done.

A few days later, CNN published a response written by a dad. He seemed well-spoken, and had his thoughts laid out nicely, but he was defensive. I could feel myself getting frustrated and wanting desperately to add a snarky comment.

Part of the fun with these controversial topics is the feedback by readers. Some people seriously need to get a life! Each side can go on and on trying to convince the other side that they are ridiculous! What is the point? Neither side is going to suddenly have a lightbulb moment and say, "Dang, I think I was wrong!"

I think people react so strongly out of fear. The believers fear the world will go to pot without God, and the Atheists fear that believers will dominate the world and suppress free-thinking and logic.

I didn't add a comment to the non-believer article because I agreed with her, particularly her statement that religion belongs in the home and in the church.

The non-believer, however, really ruffled my feathers and I felt compelled to comment. He was DEFENDING religion and God. And I ask, "Why?" Something so personal should not need to be defended--it just is! And if people don't accept that, who gives a shit! I sat in front of my computer for about an hour, drafting and re-drafting a response. I didn't want to be one of "those" people who feels like my opinion is welcome or will really change anything.

In keeping with my choice to be open-minded, this is what I posted, along with one single response.

Holding onto faith

I love my kids. I'd do anything for them. So when my son and his girlfriend were leading an initiative to give Christmas presents to the homeless in the city and needed volunteers, I was there for him. We gave out clothes, socks, outerwear, cookies, gift cards, and bibles.

I tried to think if I was a homeless person, would a bible be appreciated? I wasn't sure if that was a very practical thing. Would some of them toss it aside? Sell it? Burn it to keep warm? But I learned something interesting.

People in the worst of situations still have faith.

I was the driver, so mostly it was the kids who jumped out of the van to distribute the gifts. I tried to discretely take photos, so as to not invade the privacy of the homeless. What I saw and photographed really moved me, and changed my opinion on distributing bibles. I saw these young people hold hands and pray with the homeless. It was beautiful. Then they hugged them. The homeless people smiled and waved as we left.

We came upon a woman who stated that she was "homeless and not ashamed." I wish I had gotten out of the car to talk to her a bit, but I wasn't in a parking spot to do so. She was very friendly and I would have liked to have known her name and her story on how she became homeless. The kids asked her if she wanted a bible, but she proudly stated that she already has one.

Then there was Terry. A vibrant, outgoing, funny, smart young man. I'm not sure his story was entirely true, but he interacted with the kids by telling jokes and reciting passages from the bible. He also said that God has plans for us and gives us challenges to overcome. We had a prayer circle, with him leading it. I didn't pay much attention because the skeptic in me was keeping one eye on the van and our personal belongings.


I learned that there are so many people who are Christian and homeless. They could easily turn away from God, because if he existed, why would he allow them to suffer? But they hold onto their faith. They have nothing else. If it gives them hope and comfort, let them have that.

Mean, snarky atheist

My kids did something wonderful. They and their friends gathered at their church to wrap gifts to distribute to the homeless in a nearby city. This was a Saturday night, a few days before Christmas. They wrapped clothes, socks, outerwear, and bibles with gift cards inside. Yes, bibles.

I had my doubts about the value of giving out bibles to people who need so much more than a book to carry around, and perhaps the money could be spent in a more useful way. But, this mission was not mine, so I kept my thoughts to myself, and helped them with their wrapping.

I take photos of everything, so they weren't surprised when I posted photos of their wrapping party on Facebook for all of them to see. My atheist nephew left a snarky comment. I did not appreciate it. I immediately removed it and sent him a private message as to why, and to also ask him to refrain from posting snarky messages when it came to something related to my kids (his cousins).

We messaged back and forth for a bit, as you can see if you click on the image. He is what I'd refer to as a mean, snarky atheist (MSA). And my question is... why? Belittling and criticizing others' beliefs will certainly not shame them into turning atheist. They will not suddenly start questioning their beliefs or the bible. It will not change things!

A few days later, I was at a family event with the MSA nephew. I knew his mom and sister (both Catholics) were listening nearby. MSA nephew said he thought my daughter (also atheist) and I were doing it right by being "nice" atheists. He is still angered by religion in general, and thinks there is no value in it.

But I brought up a good point. There are millions of people in the world who walk the straight and narrow BECAUSE of the fear of God. If you take religion away, they will not have any fear in doing bad things or hurting others. Personally, I LIKE having religion, and the belief in God in this world because it keeps ME safer. True, there are those who commit acts of violence in the name of religion, but that number is far less than those "good" people who do good things in the name of God.

I really hope I gave MSA nephew something to think about.

Removing God

The initiative to take God out of schools started when Madalyn Murray O'Hair (founder of the American Atheists Organization) filed a lawsuit claiming it was unconstitutional for her son to participate in prayer and bible readings in school. It was ruled on June 25, 1962, that prayer was no longer permitted in the schools.

The aftermath of one of the deadliest school shootings brings up the question, "Should God have been taken out of the schools?"

I wasn't there when this decision was made. I went to Catholic schools all my life, so it didn't affect me. I had to research when this occurred, and was surprised it happened before I was even born.

If God was never taken from the public schools, would the world be a better place? You could argue that, yes, it would be, because the righteousness of God would be ingrained on a daily basis. If the parents weren't praying with their kids at home, at least they were praying in school.

But why should it be up to the school? Ultimately, it is up to the parents to ensure that their children are following a Christian life.

America is a melting pot of different races and beliefs. I can see why it's important not to shoehorn kids into the Christian routines of prayer and bible readings. I don't understand why religion can't exist.

Prayer chains

Do they work?

The largest prayer chain in the history of the universe is not going to bring back those sweet little children. It is not going to heal the bereaving survivors any sooner. There will be no sense of peace when the parents wake up on Christmas morning to a silent house.

Many people are heartsick over the shooting of those kindergarteners. They are not our kids, but we can imagine how we'd feel if we were their parents. And just knowing how delicately we hang on the balance between life and death... well, it's a scary thing. It can happen to any of us.

It's an odd thing. People don't like to feel helpless. They don't like to feel fear. So they pray. They pray to a loving God who had a purpose for those children--to make them angels in heaven, to teach the world a lesson, to remind people that he's the badass in charge of this whole piss-pot world.

If I were one of the parents who lost a child, I'd be like, "Hey God, WTF?"

I feel terrible about what happened. I feel scared and helpless too. But I don't pray. I don't believe in prayer, or hope, or fate.

Life is a crapshoot. Today those kids rolled snake eyes.