My earliest memories of religion involve being a brat during Sunday School , which was led by my grandmother or (now atheist) mother, or getting dragged out to rural Minnesota to go listen to my grandfather deliver his lengthy Easter sermon.

 

I didn’t feel it then, and I don’t feel it now. Believing in something like a god has always seemed silly, and as an inquisitive child, church was never the place to find answers, or ask questions. I got a lot of “God works in mysterious ways” and “Jesus loves you,” neither of which was very satisfactory.

I remember putting religion to the test, and doing trial prayers asking for assistance or material possessions. “God helps those who help themselves,” they said. Well, shit, so you’re saying I can’t count on God? So then, 8 year-old me attempted Faustian bargains, offering my soul up for friends or more LEGOs. When Mephistopheles didn’t appear with contract in hand, and no LEGOs arrived, I figured my initial suspicion that it was all a hoax was right, and continued on down that skeptic path.

He might not be aware of it, but my Catholic father is probably responsible for a lot of this. At a very young age he got me hooked on Frank Herbert, J.R.R. Tolkien, and Ben Bova. He had encyclopedias that I would just sit and read, and when I couldn’t find the answer there, I’d ask him lots of questions about how stars work, what dinosaurs were like, and where we came from. He wasn’t afraid to say “I don’t know” when he didn’t know, and I always respected that.

As a teenager, my mom started taking me with her to Unitarian Universalist churches, eventually ending up at one in South Minneapolis. I met a lot of like-minded youth there who didn’t know all the answers and weren’t in a hurry to get me to subscribe to their various religious beliefs. In fact, the whole UU community seemed to be structured around acceptance and tolerance, with no dogma or required belief in magic space angels. It was a good, supportive place to be during what is a confusing time for many teens. I was less concerned with the existence or non-existence of gods, and more concerned with truth, justice, and equity; they fostered that.

In my 20s, I bummed around with some heathen friends who celebrated the Norse pantheon. They were mostly good folks who invited me in and were fun to be with. I even participated in some of their rituals. Even though I felt pretty damn silly for most of it, some of the traditions like toasting during a sumble were pretty cool, and didn’t require any sort of  adherence to their religious beliefs. Eventually, we grew apart. Participating in their religion made me feel false. Even if they didn’t mind, I did. The more I think on it, the fact that it didn’t matter to them made it matter more to me that I separate myself from this part of their lives. Their religion felt like a costume everyone wore, and I just couldn’t understand how everyone else didn’t think it was silly.

That essentially brings me current. Technically I was raised Lutheran and later socially dabbled in heathenism, but I think I’ve always known I was faithless. The only thing that has changed over the years is me and my philosophy regarding my lack of faith.

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