- Monday, February 8, 2010: The Problem with Chickens on the Moon
- Tuesday, December 22, 2009: Evangelism Evasion: How to Fake the Possession of Your Eternal Soul by Demonic Forces
- Tuesday, December 8, 2009: Just in Time for XXXmas!
- Tuesday, December 8, 2009: Let's Clarify, Shall We?
- Saturday, December 5, 2009: The Reason for the Season
- Thursday, July 23, 2009: For the Children
- Thursday, July 23, 2009: Growing up fundie
- Monday, July 13, 2009: Perspective
- Tuesday, July 7, 2009: Wal-Mart Has Comforters, Right?
- Friday, June 12, 2009: Masturbation: Doctor's Orders! (Part 2)
The Reason for the Season
As an intellectual, I realize that the reason for the season isn’t Jesus, as so many people will profess. It is a well-known fact that the birth of Jesus (if we go ahead and assume for a moment that the rest of the story was accurate) was most certainly not in December, for a number of reasons. It is also well-known that the Roman Catholic Church, in an effort to assist the pagans in accepting the new religion of choice, used the existing Feast of the Son of Isis, the Goddess of Nature, which occurred on December 25th. Of course, since Babylonian times, the feast included partying, drinking, eating, and gift-giving. How could you get converts if you took away their favorite holiday? The holiday also coincides with most other cultures, celebrating the winter solstice. The Romans honored Saturn, the God of Agriculture, and the Europeans celebrated Yule, the birth of the Sun God Mithras.
But that’s honestly not what this article is about. It’s about the part of me that still misses my ignorance and the peace it brought this time of year.
As I sat in front of my Christmas tree this morning, adding bows, ribbons, and embellishments to the presents, I listened to Christmas music. And having grown up in a very religious household, and attending a fundamentalist school, I, of course, know all the words to every song by heart. Especially the religious ones. As I began to recall the songs, Oh Come All Ye Faithful, Silent Night, and Hark the Herald Angels Sing, I felt an intense sadness.
My separation from the church, unlike so many others, was not one that was my choice. I realize that had not certain events occurred, I would probably still believe, still attend church, and still find the security in my faith that I did growing up. I would encourage my children this time of year to embrace the birth of Jesus, attend candlelight services, and be filled with the joy of the season. Instead, I shudder at religious symbols, at prayers before Christmas dinners, and all the religious connotations the season brings. My hatred, and yes, I mean that honestly, comes from the time that, as a youth, the church that I had attended my entire life literally pushed me out the door and insisted I not return; all this through no fault of my own. But that is another story for another time.
The realization of where I might be in life, and how it would differ from where I am now was the source of my sadness. This morning, I had to admit to myself that I miss the warm, fuzzy security blanket of religious ignorance. The feeling that someone, somewhere, out there loved me unconditionally, and that all the bad things that happened in life somehow had a purpose.
As I listened to Oh Holy Night, I recalled Christmas Eve’s of my childhood; and I miss it. Now, each day, each action, is my responsibility. I have to live with the consequences and find my own way in the world. I have to lead my children to survive in this world, no unseen figure, no invisible avenger to fall back on or ask for help. I felt the loneliness. I cried. I grieved for easier times.
I envy believers. They have peace I can’t find anymore, a security I don’t feel anymore. But I can’t believe. If there is a g-d out there, and perhaps there is, I don’t know who he is. And while most of the time I feel proud and empowered by my own understanding of the world, today is different. Today, like so many years ago when I was rejected by my church, I am grieving the loss of religion in my life.
Saturday, December 5, 2009 at 07:09
i know exactly how you feel. what’s worse is that i feel anxiety at sharing those feelings - not out of shame or discomfort, but because i know that any fundie out there is going to look at that and say to themselves, “see how sad she is without jesus? that’s the holy spirit working on her heart. let’s pray for her right now.”
a more appropriate response should be “what the fuck are we doing to people with this shit?”
at this juncture in my life, i’ve had the privilege to know people who were raised in all manner of belief (or disbelief) structures. and by comparison, i believe, to a certain extent, that my childhood of g-d as the only purpose for living has proved to be an enormous emotional handicap. now that i’ve studied my way out of fundamentalism, i am, as an adult, forming all of the coping mechanisms that i was not able to as a child. my g-d bandaid has been ripped off, and the wound is still healing.
i didn’t mean to go on like this, but i know how you feel. and it’s OK to grieve. and it’s OK to feel lonely. just know you’re not alone.
Saturday, December 5, 2009 at 07:08
I don’t know that the wound ever completely heals. so when I get a “flare up”, I simply apply the ointment of vast informatioin debunking their theories, and go about my gay day. (and sometimes call my fav prima!)
Saturday, December 5, 2009 at 10:11
Thanks for the support, all. I had a lot of anxiety sharing that as well, but felt so much better when it was finally off my chest.
I consider my religious past almost as if it were an abusive relationship… thought it was the right thing at the time, but having moved out of that mindset and from the outside looking in, I realized it was based on the manipulation, the threats, and the lack of any other options. But just like an abusive relationship, even though it doesn’t make sense, there are still moments when the wound is re-opened.