Hi God. We go back a long way, but in a way we never really had a relationship. Religion is an interesting thing to contemplate. Accidentally, as I continue to read different thinkers, philosophers, and other content (in most cases not directly about religion), I am encountering clearer ways to frame religion in my mind. Here though, I just want to share what religion has been in my life and my general attitude about it in day to day life. The kinds of things you say when someone asks what are your religious views or your view on religion.
If we are using shades of gray, I would have to say I’m agnostic. If black and white, I am atheist. In reality, I think both atheist and agnostic. I don’t believe God exists, and I also have no way (or much care) to sustain that disbelief. Very me, what does it matter one way or the other? If it ‘matters’ I’ll think a lot about it. Of course, only I know how I feel about saying it that way, it’s my expression not a verdict.
My Mexican-American upbringing was largely inspired by traditional Mexican customs, and in religion that means catholicism. I say Mexican-American because that’s what it is – it’s not quite fully Mexican (more on that another day) – it’s morphed by existing in the US, its own thing. The catholicism I was exposed to and its representatives, mainly Mexican immigrants seeking a better life in the US, were not very skeptical. I am very skeptical. In my earliest memories about this, I saw it as being delivered to me as an established truth. This happened. And that happened. Jesus is this. You don’t talk about Jesus that way. Jesus does not like when you do this. God does not like when you do that. That is against God. You go to church because otherwise you’re not a good worshiper of God. Jesus came back to life. Really?
I can’t say how old I was, maybe 7-9 ish. I remember pulling out an illustrated kids bible from a closet. By then, I already had a fascination with books. My thought: this is a neat book. People care about God and think it’s important. I should read this book so I know what is in it and can understand better. Because there must be something. Right? That was my short logic, but I never believed. I never thought it was real. Ever. I have never believed in God, and I don’t think I will.
I did play along though for a long time. I was baptized – this I can’t take credit for because it happened as a toddler. As a child through early teen years, I dressed up on some Sundays and sat quietly. I kneeled on the pew when other people kneeled. I stood silent and awkwardly when others prayed and made signs of the cross on their bodies. Eventually, I learned to do the basic cross. Sometimes, I still do, but less as a religious gesture and more of a nod to the heritage of the whole thing and subtle good-natured sarcasm (I’m okay going to hell for this if hell is real I guess). I showed up to family baptisms and first communions. I even had godparents.
I’m not sure why, but I didn’t get around to doing my first communion until I was a freshman in high school I believe, or late middle school. Honestly, as a fat kid I was more excited to go to Sunday school for the free donuts than to learn about God. I did the first communion where you confess yourself for the first time (why am I gonna tell my secrets to an arbitrary guy was my thought, I’m not), learn higher level prayers, and get to participate in the blood and body of Christ (just the body wafer for me because I wasn’t drinking alcohol then). I remember I didn’t start really listening to sermons until I was 13 or 14, before that it was just a boring waiting game until I could leave the church. I was both impressed and further disillusioned. Disillusioned because it wasn’t much more than everyday advice on how to live. Impressed because at least it was generally decent advice and so finally there was some value in my young eyes. That didn’t move the needle either way, though.
The major shift came in high school. The next step after communion is confirmation. That’s when I told my parents I wasn’t going to do my confirmation. Gasp. Not I don’t want to do it. I’m not going to do it. People find this shocking, but it really wasn’t that dramatic. A couple of times over the years I had expressed skepticism, which was met with an intense ‘stop that’ and also a bit of fear from my parents. I wasn’t the rebellious type so I would shrug it off (aka in my mind they’re wrong but whatever what’s the point). I didn’t feel any particular intensity about the confirmation. I just had a lot of stuff to do and not that much time to spare for more religious lessons. I did have to give a brief defense which I don’t remember well. It was interesting / surprising to me even then how easily my parents accepted it. This gave me a newfound respect and appreciation for conviction, aligning actions with thoughts, and standing firmly behind who I am.
I’ve made similar convicted statements in other areas of life at different times, a couple of them have burned me, but on the whole I’m really happy that I can do it, regardless of success. I enjoy thinking. I like to make my own decisions. I believe in free will. I want to be a good person, but I want to decide what that means. I reserve the right to mess up here and there. I don’t mind and even want a little chaos. For the most part, my moral compass overlaps with religious codes so it’s not like I was going off the grid. I remember a conversation in high school at some academic event where I was telling a kid I just met ‘I don’t really think about religion’. What I think about is how people treat people, and mistreat people. If religion helps you be a better person, please embrace it. Church is a community and humans are social, if that community inspires you then spend time there.
I prioritize impact over intention (not a black and white thing). What is literally happening in the world? How does what we think impact what is literally happening? If not much, how can we address or act in a way that does matter? That’s how I think. As for the gap left by not believing in God, there’s enough there to hold off. Briefly though, I believe the universe exists and things happen. The infinity before and after I’m alive might as well not exist because I can never know and certainly will not experience it, especially not as the me I know myself as today (which I am inclined to think is the only me). I am okay with my life having no intrinsic meaning. That’s not scary (now), I’m just a human. Yet, the decisions I make and the people I touch while I’m here is very meaningful to me, and at the very worst it’s at least real, so it matters. My life is a spark, and for the moment it flashes, I want to feel myself the flame, not just see the light.
