Atheism and me, part 1

A couple of recent Pharyngula posts have had me thinking the last couple of days about how I define "atheism" and how I came to consider myself to be an atheist. Long story short: I always was an atheist, even if I didn't always call myself that. But the full story will take a couple of posts to tell...

First, the links to those two posts I mentioned:
I keep being told what I believe
Freethought tag-team wrestling match

I grew up in a home that was not strongly religious. My parents weren't atheists--non-practicing Christians is probably accurate--but we also didn't pay many visits to the church. My brothers and I were all baptized, and I believe that we all attended some manner of Sunday school, but none of it ever stuck with me. By the time I was old enough to question Santa Claus, I was also not feeling the god love. But as a kid, you don't really think much about these things. I didn't grow up in a religious community, so religion simply didn't play much of a role in my life.

So I have no conversion story. I never was religious. I may have been Christian in name from the baptism on, but it never played any role in my development. I couldn't tell you the first time I realized I was actually unique in not believing in god. It's just kind of always been there in the back of my head. And it wasn't until I was a teenager that I started noticing how much of the world around me was into this whole Jebus thing.

For many of my public school years, the Lord's Prayer and God Save the Queen were rituals of every morning. The only thing I can remember about this daily ritual is the day that my friend got me into a giggling fit right in the middle of it, and we were both sent out into the hall for a stern talking to. I may have recited the words every day, but they meant nothing to me. (I am glad that they have removed this type of ritual from most public schools. Even though most kids don't give a shit about this kind of thing, it just has no place in public schools.)

I can't say when I was first exposed to the idea of atheism. Maybe when I was introduced to the internet in 1995, maybe there was some tv show I saw earlier... I really can't say. But I know that religion only started bothering me in my later high school years, and this carried through to the peak of my anti-religious furor in my early years of university.

My high school years were when I really started noticing how many of the small rituals we do every day had their basis in religion. I honestly hadn't noticed nor cared before, but suddenly someone saying grace was a piss-off. Everyone has some rebellious urges in their late teen years, and my rebellion was about religion. Not god per say. Just religion.

But it was a quiet rebellion. I just refused to partake in any of the rituals anymore. I wouldn't bow my head during prayer, nor during grace. I would be the only person still sitting in church during a wedding's devotion. I liked the minor attention that I earned with this type of behaviour. More and more, I considered myself to be anti-religious--specifically anti-Christian, because Christianity was the only religion with any visibility at the time.

University only strengthened my resolve. Campus Crusade for Christ advertised everywhere, which annoyed me--but whatever, that's their right. Much worse was their visit to my dorm room on an annual basis. These were my first actual encounters with Evangelical Christians, and they left a mark.

I am a hobby musician. I play guitar, sing, etc. I started writing my own songs in my late teens. Most of the early songs were heavily influenced by the alternative music of the time--especially the depressing lyrics. It wasn't me speaking for myself, it was me trying to capture the magic of my influences with forced artificiality. But after my third visit from Campus Crusade, I wrote one of my most personal and passionately angry songs, "Campus Crusade for Christ."

This is my last stand
I am who I am
You cannot change me
It's not your right to judge me

I can't believe your audacity
Knock on my door to tell me
He will save me
You see, I don't believe in your Heaven or Hell
Is your God good or evil? Sometimes I just can't tell

This is my last stand
I am who I am
You cannot change me
It's not your place to judge me

It's pretty simple, actually
The Bible is a work of fantasy
And it makes no sense to me
You see, I don't believe the stories about your Jesus
If you think about it, it's pretty damn ridiculous

This is my last stand
I am who I am
You cannot change me
You have no right to judge me
I've always been this way

So stop saying I'm boarding a speeding Chariot to Hell
If Heaven's for jerks like you, I guess it's just as well

This is my last stand
I am who I am
You cannot change me
You have no right to judge me
I've always been this way

This was the beginning of a string of religion-themed songs. Religion frequently made me angry, and music is an excellent way to vent. I also started venting by moving beyond the quiet rebellion into full-on asshole territory. I became arrogant in my anti-religion, and started saying anti-religious things just to draw attention to the fact that I didn't believe the same things that most people do. I angered a lot of people that way, because for them, religion is a serious part of their life and to have someone completely disrespect it is to have someone completely disrespecting them. But I felt like this religious society was disrespecting me, so it was fair.

If I had a conversion story, and I've already said that I don't, it would probably start like this: in 1996, my mother was diagnosed with cancer, and she passed away in 1997. If I had still believed in a god at this time, this would have been where I would have started hating it. But there was no god for me to hate. (Ironically, this event brought my father back to god.)

In response to this loss, I sat down and wrote some of my most devastating lyrics to date. It was a five part suite titled "The Whispering," and part three of the suite, "Monday," is the most relevant to this discussion. Warning!--this song does not hold back on the language!

Sure I'd like to blame Him, say it's all His fucking fault!
And it would be nice to know that my mom's in a better place
But I can't believe in Him
I won't believe in Him!

As appealing as it may be
I won't... sacrifice... my beliefs for anything

Sure I'd like to blame Him, say fuck God and fuck you all!
And it would be reassuring to know that one day we'll be reunited
But I can't believe in Him
I won't believe in Him!

What has He done for me?
I won't... sacrifice... my beliefs for anything

At my mother's funeral on the "Monday" referenced in the song title, I finally found someone to hate: the preacher that delivered the ceremony. I understand that it is the preacher's job to comfort the family. And this is hard, because death is hard. However, how is this comforting?--my mother was taken from us at a young age because she was such a good person that god wanted her by its side early. Yes, this is what he said. Was I the only person in the room that realized how inherently offensive that statement is? I know he didn't mean to slam everyone else that didn't die, but by trying to place meaning on a meaningless death, he inadvertently suggested that the rest of us weren't good enough to die yet. God didn't want us.

This is why religion pisses me off. There is no meaning in life. People die for unfair reasons all the time, and once they die, they are gone, except for the mark they left on the people they leave behind. But this doesn't mean that life is not worth living, because it is. You have to enjoy it now for what it is, not hold out for what it could be in an imaginary immortal heaven. That mark that you leave behind--that is your immortality.

To be continued...