Steve_Jones said:
I'd assume most people start of being raised with some sort of religion in the house, yet there are many "non believers" out there. Why? What happened to make you go down a different path from those that stayed with religion? Was it a certain event or just a gradual thing?
What do you think happens after death? Does death bother you?
Your assumption that "most people start off being raised with some sort of religion in the house" is interesting. What makes you say that? It's the exact opposite of my experience. Some of my classmates growing up attended one church or another with their families, but most did not. In fact, I was surprised to find that you are, according to your profile, a few years younger than I am; my impression is that religion is much more common among the aged than among people of our generation or younger. Maybe it's a regional thing. I'm on the west coast and have never spent significant time elsewhere.
Religion went away a generation ago in my family. We were raised without church. More on that shortly. Death is not something I look forward to, but there is certainly no escaping it. I have often considered the comfort that faith brings others in times of loss, and have had friends use that as an incentive to get me to believe, but I don't think belief is a choice. It's a result of what one sees, hears, and feels. And I'm not seeing, hearing, or feeling anything that suggests things are anything other than a fantastically fortunate result of an infinite combination of circumstances across an equally infinite timeline. In a way, that's even more miraculous than any story told in the various religions man has created.
Steve_Jones said:
I'll also throw one in you don't hear much, I was raised Quaker.
That's interesting. So was my dad. His dad was into it in a big way. A couple of years ago my dad and I talked about how and why he had abandoned it, and his take was that it never really made sense. Even as a child, he took exception to the idea of roping kids into religion and expecting them to declare their faith in and understanding of something invisible and intangible long before we'd expect them to be familiar with and capable of handling a car or a rifle or a bottle of whiskey. Dad said he'd get dragged along to the Yearly Meetings, year after year, and hear the same old goings-on, and eventually, he just decided it was not for him. He hasn't expressed any inclination toward religion since. Neither have I or either of my siblings. That's something other people do. If it makes them happy and doesn't hurt anybody, well, have at it, but we don't want any, thanks. I gave at the office.
My mom, meanwhile, never said a thing about religion when we were growing up, and I was actually surprised when she mentioned being raised Baptist. I casually mentioned not really believing in god several years ago and she about pooped herself. I might as well have told her I'd joined the Taliban. This woman who'd never made a peep about religion suddenly had opinions - strong opinions - about exactly how wrong I was to not claim a side. It was genuinely unsettling to discover that my own mother was secretly religious, or, if not outright religious, had some strong sympathies with people we had always viewed as Others. It was weird. Religion had never been part of our lives, and both churches and churchgoers genuinely give me the heebie-jeebies. And here was my mother outing herself as some sort of Christian sleeper cell.
I have had friends try to entice me. A girlfriend left me because I was not part of her church, a popular sect known for their door-to-door recruitment campaigns by clean-cut young men. After promptly marrying someone better aligned to her moral compass, she embarked on a downward spiral of displaying her anatomy for anybody with a handful of singles, and then, predictably enough, offering more than a look for anybody with more than a handful, with the added benefit of getting the "fresh start on life" that comes with a series of revolving-door marriages. One of her siblings went infinitely worse than that, neglecting an infant until it suffered an absolutely unspeakable death. There is no need to go into detail. Let's just say that learning of those descents into darkness really made clear the stark contrast between what people say they stand for and what they are really made of. I count myself lucky that I wasn't good enough for that family.
On the popular subject of forgiveness: meh. Seems unlikely. The whole idea seems unlikely. Sure, you aren't supposed to do bad things, but you're totally gonna. All you have to do is say, "sorry". But you have to say it to someone you can't see or hear, and it helps if you say it in this building. And sometimes it only works if somebody else knows you said it. Wait, what? How is that just not blanket permission to be a total bastard to everybody you meet? And apparently I am expected to believe that some wide-eyed followers have been sent by some magical invisible grandpa to save me from damnation despite the fact that, by and large, they don't look or sound all that trustworthy. I can't do it. If there is a just and loving god, I won't be punished for not aligning myself with a story I'm not convinced of. If there is a god but that god is jealous and vengeful, then I'm boned no matter what. And if there is no god, then it's all moot.
I will confess a certain degree of envy for the ready-made community that religion can offer. But I cannot pretend to believe just so that I can get access to daycare or some help building a fence. That's too high a price.
Without a foundation of faith to build on, religion is a farce, a show for the community. I don't have that faith. My wife does not have that faith. We are secular people and our child will be raised in a secular fashion. He will be taught to respect others' beliefs, but he will most certainly not be raised with any sort of religion in the house. Exceptions may be made for the aforementioned cars, rifles, and bottles of whiskey.
What we do have, holy book or not, shiny shoes or not, societal approval or not, is a moral compass that works. We help when we can and we don't take what isn't ours.
