Another Xmas as a Closeted Atheist
Wed Dec 26, 2007 at 12:06:24 AM PDT
Christmas is over. Pejoratively, I write, thank God. For many reasons this is a bleak time of year for me.
One reason is that, like many Kossacks, I am an atheist. Some people might call me a lapsed or a recovering Catholic. My parents, though, don't believe such designations exist. I have been baptized, taken communion and been confirmed. To them, I am Catholic for life based on the completion of these rites of passage.
It doesn't matter that I haven't gone to Mass on a regular basis in 13 years. It doesn't matter that I don't believe in the divinity of Jesus, or the existence of Heaven, or the immortality of the soul. I am Catholic forever.
And at some point, they figure, the blasphemy will stop: an awakening, an epiphany will occur and the sinning will cease. I'll be back on my knees, begging the heavenly father for forgiveness and reciting the Lord's Prayer with remorseful tears in my eyes.
It's never going to happen.
My wife live and I live 2,000 miles away from our families. I haven't gone back home for Christmas since I moved away and my parents have visited us only twice in seven years.
Religion rarely comes up whenever we speak. I have argued with my parents over the church's sex abuse scandals and its cult of secrecy. They have defended the church and its priests and I listened, aghast, as they rationalized away the rape of children.
Politically, they've grown more conservative over the years, wholly buying into the Limbaugh/Hannity/Beck backlash and voting 100% Republican since 1980. You probably can imagine the other things they've come to justify, most of which are contrary to Christian belief: cutting social programs for the poor, denying health care to millions of children, endorsing corporate hegemony, supporting the Iraq war, etc.
Regardless of this long history of disagreement, I still have their ear. We still talk. So I had another chance today to come out an as atheist. I didn't even have to do it in person.
It could've have been this simple:
"Mom, Dad, I don't believe in God."
"What?"
"I don't believe in God."
"What? How can you say that?"
From there I likely would have clarified that I don't believe in God as Catholics/Christians define him. Or I might have said that if God indeed exists, how can human beings possibly comprehend divine intentions when they/we know so little about the earth and its creatures?
This might have made matters worse. I imagine my parents clinging to these words as equivocation, taking them as unsure steps on a path back to agnosticism and, ultimately, renewed faith in what they believe.
The pro-Catholic cheerleading, which has been held somewhat in abeyance for the past couple of years, might resume. I'd be repeatedly told to give the church another chance. During our phone calls they would start to tell embellished fables about what a pious child I was.
Dreading this passive-aggressive tact - enduring years of it, likely - I said nothing. So my wife and I shared the same Christmas conversation with my parents about an irrelevant exchange of gifts, the weather, what we're each having for dinner, et cetera. It could've been recorded in 2006, or 2005.
My wife supports my beliefs and would defend me if I told my parents how I feel, how I've felt my entire adult life. So why can't I do it? Do I feel a need to protect their faith from my overwhelming doubt? My lack of belief wouldn't cause them to waver for a second in their steadfast Catholicism.
Am I keeping my atheism secret just to keep the peace? Am I a coward? I've been in this place before. I lied to them about going to Mass the final three years I lived at home. Now I've been harboring this bigger secret for even longer.
I need to tell them before next Christmas. Maybe telling them on Christmas - given its significance - is a sucker punch, anyway. I don't know.
Thank you indulging me with this diary. It was just something I needed to write. Happy holidays to all and best wishes for a great 2008, both personally and politically.
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