When people ask me, I say I am a person without religion. I am not a person without God - simply a person without religion.
Technically, I suppose I am a Catholic, since some priest somewhere anointed my head with water when I was too little to remember, and my white christening dress still hangs in a plastic bag somewhere in my parents' attic.
But after the age of five, I never went to church at all, and since I do not believe in the most central tenets of Christianity, I cannot, with any good conscience, call myself a Christian.
I never asked my parents why we stopped going to church. I wouldn't have minded going. I always liked climbing under the white wooden pews during the service, and nothing was better than the warm waffles drenched in gooey strawberry goop that I used to get at Denny's right afterward. Yeah, back in kindergarten, church was downright fun.
Evidently, my dad didn't agree. Shouting matches would erupt between my parents about whether or not they should take the kids to church. My dad was adamantly opposed - it seems that after going through Catholic school and Catholic college and even being an altar boy when he was little, he had lost all faith in the Church. I wonder what made him give up on religion. Did he give it up because he had known someone who had been killed in Vietnam? Did he give it up because when he was 19 his friend Charlie Eckert was murdered? Did he just want to sleep in on Sundays?
My mom, who had grown up Lutheran, worried every now and then that she was ruining her two daughters by not bringing them up with religion; the most effort she ever really made to bring religion into our house was to put up a Christmas tree in December and play one or two renditions of "Silent Night" on the record player.
The older I got, the more I began to fear religion. When I was in seventh grade, we had to read the Old Testament of the Bible. I was terrified that my mom might find out I was reading it and suddenly realize I knew nothing at all about religion and ship me off to CCD classes. I would sit in my bedroom with the door shut, the Bible tucked inside my large science book that was propped up against my knees. My bookbag was always placed strategically next to my feet so that I could stuff the Bible in it as soon as my mom knocked on my door.
I only found out last week that she knew about my clandestine Bible reading the entire time.
I was 15 when I attended my first church service, a Catholic mass in Spain when I was there as an exchange student. As I sat in the back of the church, the unfamiliar sounds washed over me as I tried hard to focus on the priest in his white robe, standing just above the sea of heads in the congregation. All of a sudden everyone stood up. A few minutes later everyone sat down. I sat in the back mesmerized.
Eventually, I lost my fear of the church and instead decided to learn what I could about its long complicated history. I learned about the creation of the Holy Roman Empire, the Crusades, the split of King Henry the Eighth. In Paris I gaped at the Gothic splendor of the Notre Dame cathedral. In Wittenburg, I walked up to the door where Martin Luther posted his 95 theses. In Assisi, I marveled at the quiet Franciscan monks in their simple brown robes. In Rome I waved to the Pope from a square in the Vatican.
But even after visiting dozens of religious monuments, seeing hundreds of religious paintings, and studying thousands of years of Church history, I still could not fathom why so many people could believe in a religion that seemed so preposterous.
It wasn't until this summer that I put together a very important piece of the puzzle. One day at work, one of my good friends - a girl who is the president of the Catholic center at her school - asked me if Judaism was a part of Christianity. I burst out laughing, but then I looked at her blank face, and decided it was time to enlighten her. I laid down the facts. I told her that Jews, Christians, and Muslims all believe in the Old Testament. Jews believe that the messiah has not come yet, Muslims believe that Mohammed was the messiah, and Christians believe that Jesus was the messiah. I then explained that Christians are divided into three groups: Roman Catholics, Eastern Orthodox, and Protestants. Catholics believe that the Pope in Rome is chosen by God, Eastern Orthodox believe that the Pope in Constantinople is chosen by God, and Protestants do not believe in a Pope at all.
At first I could not understand why this girl, who had gone to Catholic school for 13 years and was now the president of her school's Catholic center could not know about these basic points in her religion. I explained to her that I believe in God, but I have a hard time believing that Jesus was actually born from a virgin or walked on water or rose from the dead. I asked her how she could believe those things without questioning them. She looked at me dumbfounded. And it was then that I realized she has something very important that I lack: faith.
She believes in her religion... because. There is no word to come after it, just "because."
Without religion, I have not only missed out on faith, but also I have missed out on the close sense of community that draws so many people to their churches, synagogues, and mosques week after week.
My friend may not have questioned the validity of many points of her religion, but she has a place where she can go every Sunday to feel a sense of renewal and spiritual fulfillment which is essential to our daily lives. She has songs she has known her whole life, and when she hears them again, her dusty, distant memories are gently awoken.
I would love to be a part of a community where I felt accepted and knew that there were other people who would accept me unconditionally. I can't become a part of the Catholic Center any more than I can become a part of the Islamic Society or Hillel. Ironically, the majority of my friends are Jewish and I often joke around with them that I am a wannabe Jew. When my roommate went to Rosh Hashanah services last Friday night, I thought I would try to call a friend, but I realized that every single person I wanted to call would also be at services, and suddenly I felt very much alone.
I can't be the only person out there who questions the basic underpinnings of their religion. Doesn't anyone else find it difficult to believe that Adam and Eve were the first two humans or that God really spoke to Moses through a burning bush? Are people really duped by their religions, or do they simply choose to accept what they are taught because they want to be accepted by a community?
Unfortunately, I can't go to church or synagogue and expect to gain faith. Faith has to come before I join a religion, before I become a part of a religious community. So for now, I will keep searching.
