I grew up in a rural area of Finland and went to a tiny school of about thirty pupils. As such, I now suppose their education methods could get away with being less than mainstream. Being only about seven to eight years old, we were taught Biblical stories as though they were the truth of what happened.
I was a personality that would find the thought of a perfect, just, omnipotent authority appealing. Being an obedient, yet ingratiating child I strove to act polite and hide my flaws from God in an effort to appease him. All in a very similar manner to my faith in Santa Claus. However, I also had a very absolute sense of morality. Since the Christian stories that I had heard taught that even a malicious thought is a sin, I figured that I was not in control of my own sinfulness. A person would be sent to either Heaven or Hell according to their sins. This made me panic, since I would have to live my entire life in constant fear of a divine punishment that might not even be fair. Normally, I would disguise my misdeeds and pretend to be nothing but pure of thought… but how could I even attempt to disguise and pretend in front of an omnipotent, omniscient God?
One day, I finally broke in tears due to this sense of insecurity. My father asked what was wrong, and I opened up to him. What he said to me afterwards was nothing short of comforting as hell. Something along the lines of “There are thousands of religions on this planet, many of which promise eternal comfort and threaten with eternal agony. And everybody believes theirs is the right one. Christianity just happens to be dominant in this particular country, so take it easy, you are not bound to anything.” This did not make me truly atheist, though. I just mentally told God, “Well, it seems that despite all your greatness, you haven’t provided me with any proof that you exist. So I’ll continue to live my life without you. No hard feelings, but you can’t expect me to have faith in you when you don’t give me a proper reason to do so.”
There was a subsequent chapter of my life where I was, in fact, fundamentalist… in a very special way. Although it is rather hilarious and would make this story much more entertaining, it’s also so incredibly embarrassing that I don’t quite feel ready to disclose it, even anonymously. Let’s just say that I was extremely devoted and routinely exercised some serious fact-bending to justify my brand of religion.
Since having gotten over that phase, I was a live and let live -style nontheist. I figured that since there are so many people who are fervent believers in God, they must all have very good reasoning. As an outsider I couldn’t possibly know enough about their beliefs to criticize them. This changed when I started frequenting a certain forum on the Internet where certain posters in particular, who had received “orthodox upbringings”, were very vocal about what their religions ordered and forbade them to do. This opened my mind to the possibility that… maybe the human mind really can be so willfully illogical as to endlessly defend a mindset that has some serious flaws in it? After all, I had been through this too.
I finally got my hands on a copy of The End of Faith by Sam Harris upon skimming through a selection of books in an online library. At first, I thought the writer must have been some sort of radical. Yet his arguments, backed up by statistics as opposed to meandering pseudo-philosophy, were such a refreshing treat that I became a “radical” myself in my stance to religion. Eventually, my sister found my copy and mentioned that she had read a similar book too, by Richard Dawkins. And so on.
Krio Gnosz
Finland
That’s what keeps a lot of people in religion, I think. They don’t themselves know the answers, but they’re pretty sure that some other “experts” do know, so it’s all right.
That’s why teaching “the answers” is a bit dicey for the religious. On the one hand, you might convince some fairly well, especially if they don’t learn counterarguments adequately. On the other hand, the answers might not look very good, in fact, particularly if the person does learn what the other side says.
That’s why learning creationist attacks on evolution got me out of Xianity soon afterward, even though I liked them at first. When I recognized that I had to honestly consider what the other side said, it didn’t take long.
Glen Davidson
The neu atheists are doing it just right. Whatever you’ve heard, there is an atheist commenter who has heard it too who will call it bullsh*t and explain why its bullsh*t. During my wife’s confirmation training she asked her pastor why go preach to the heathens and force this terrible choice on them when staying away will guarantee them access to heaven. She was very dissatisfied with his answer that she had to have faith. She needed to hear common sense back then. Now we can hear it thanks to atheist bloggers and book writers.
Do parents really think they are doing the best they can for their kids, when they submit them to religion? Or are they in their turn just “complying”?
Could a chain reaction be a useful metaphor for religion?
Wonderful post, very real, from the heart.
AND of course from the brain.
“Do parents really think they are doing the best they can for their kids, when they submit them to religion?”
Pretty much yes. With my devout catholic mother it pretty much seemed to be ‘it’s what I believe is true, you must believe it too or you will go to hell.’
I love reading these personal stories. They all very much suggest that access to information is what helps people free themselves of religion. ‘Militant’ atheism for the win!
“Well, it seems that despite all your greatness, you haven’t provided me with any proof that you exist. So I’ll continue to live my life without you. No hard feelings, but you can’t expect me to have faith in you when you don’t give me a proper reason to do so.”
Those were almost exactly the words of the last true “prayer” I ever spoke almost 6 years ago when I was 13. Thanks for sharing your story, it’s always fascinating to hear people with stories similar to mine.
Jabu M
“Do parents really think they are doing the best they can for their kids, when they submit them to religion?”
I started going back to church while raising our son. Mainly because it didn’t cost more than a weekly Sunday bore-a-thon and a few bucks to the collection basket. A fairly casual opportunity to discuss moral issues, death, and the perils of self-righteousness.
He and I both stopped attending when he went to college, and are now atheists. So I feel rather like I offered him an immunization program – “See? This is what being religious requires. Just so you won’t be tempted by it ever again.” It worked for me, too.
The contemplation of what other parents put their poor kids through with regard to religion, however, makes me shudder. Creating an immunity through a weakened vaccine is one thing, giving someone a parasitic brain disease and making them suffer is quite another. I could not have done something like that and live with myself now. So I think son and I may have had a close squeak, and simply lucked out in having skeptical minds.
jand #3
I know a woman who told me once she didn’t believe in God, then several months later told me she started going to church with her two kids. When I asked why she was doing this if she didn’t believe in God, she said “so my kids can learn how to be good”.
I can’t write one of these because it would be one sentence with about 15 words. :(
@rayjames
If you thought that thoroughly secular means everyone is above two in
Dawkins Scale then yes, you were mistaken. There is mandatory Religious Education at school and certain geographical areas have pockets of strong belief. There are even bona fide fundies.
Not even we are perfect.
Thanks, Krio. It’s great to hear from a Finn. I like the accuracy of the term non-theist as well.
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“I can’t write one of these because it would be one sentence with about 15 words.”
Shit, mine would be 15000.