Faithless

It's funny how children think that their beliefs are the end all and be all. At eight years old, I would fight with two neighborhood children on a daily basis. However, the fights were not typical childhood scruples, the fights were about religion. These children, my friends, were Atheists and I was a Catholic. For hours on end, we would argue over who's beliefs were the correct one. In today's society, there's so much energy wasted over this same occurrence that it results in war, suffering, and murder when no answer will ever come to pass. It's ironic that the belief about faith that I fought to disprove would eventually become the one I would choose to be my own.

I can remember sitting in the last row of the church, the cold, hard, wood of the pews making the hour-long sermon almost unbearable for a six-year-old. Although I didn't really understand the meaning of faith or how my religion affected me, I did feel a definite sense of belonging at the young age. Every Sunday after mass, I would attend C.C.D. classes, (a fancy name the Catholics give to Sunday school) to learn more about Catholicism, Christianity, and the Bible. In the first grade, I received my First Communion. This ceremony allows young children to receive the Eucharist, the body and blood of Christ, and where I started my journey through an organized religion.

My father was raised in a very strict Catholic home. His mother, my grandmother, attended church at least once daily. She would even tell her children that she should have become a nun instead of a mother. My dad then attended Catholic school through the twelfth grade and therefore, his life had a very strong religious foundation. My mother's family did not have such a strong outlook on religion. Her father, my "pap", was Catholic but did not attend church regularly. The responsibility of introducing religion to the children was placed on my grandmother. Consequently, my grandmother was a Methodist and therefore, raised my mother to follow her faith. When my parents married, my father took the charge of taking my brother and myself to church because of his steadfast beliefs. I therefore, was supposed to follow in his footsteps.

After many years of C.C.D., I did find faith, but never really thought about it. Christmas and Easter were about Santa Claus and the Easter bunny, not Jesus. At dinner, my family would say grace but fight over whose turn it was to do so. I can't remember reading the Bible or studying my religion outside of the set time that I had to. In the eighth grade, I received the Sacrament of Confirmation. In this ceremony, the applicant is blessed by the bishop and considered and adult in the eyes of the church. The rite is very spiritual in the Catholic Church and opened both my eyes and heart to God. The emotions that I experienced that day filled a hole in my heart. I finally achieved true devotion to my belief and my faith soared. I had my first religious experience and it convinced me that this was the lifestyle for me and no one could ever change my mind.

About two months after my confirmation, I experienced the loss of my "pap" to a heart attack. My faith was shaken, but not lost. Three months after that, my other grandfather passed away. I saw these two men almost every day of my life and, therefore, played a very significant role in it. Emotionally torn, I felt nothing but hate and rage for my God. In the end, I lost all of my faith in Catholicism and Christianity in general. Eventually my anger dissipated and I came to terms with their deaths. However, my faith was never fully restored.

As months and then years went by, I searched for other sources of faith to get me through the trying times that I encountered. I studied everything from Krishna Consciousness to Wicca and nothing seemed to fit with my new beliefs and principles. By this time, I was well into high school and was taking many advanced science courses. In these classes I fell in love with fact, structure, and evidence. I soon discovered that I had become an Atheist.

I can remember revealing my newfound beliefs to my mother while sitting at our kitchen table. Upset and disappointed, she insisted that it was nothing more than teenage "angst" and therefore, a phase that would soon pass. Three years later, these beliefs are stronger than ever. I have hurt members of my family because of them, but would not dare change my mind because of it. Atheism is often falsely accused of having hate for all deities. Atheists are free thinkers; people that ask questions and doubt everything. To believe in something indefinitely would not allow him or her to gain more knowledge about the world around them.

This issue is merely one of personal preference. I personally have no qualms with any other religions and invite people to speak openly about their opinions. I will never limit myself to my own beliefs and continue to read and study on these many different practices of faith.

Making this decision has been one of the most difficult tasks in my life. I receive many lectures from people, usually Christians that intend to "save" me. Although I find these sessions frustrating, I am curious to hear what makes them believe because I can no longer understand how he or she can put so much faith into something that cannot be seen, touched or felt. I am amazed by these people and see their faith as wondrous. Humans should do whatever they need to do to get through the day, religious or otherwise.

The decisions that I have made have not brought me extended amounts of joy or happiness as most believers receive. I do know that I have found a state of peace and no longer need to worry about "the great question". I am happy with who I am and hope that others can accept what is in my heart. I agree with Robert G. Ingersoll when he said, "I am not so much for the freedom of religion as I am for the religion of freedom."

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