(I grew up Catholic) All throughout my Sunday schooling the inconsistencies kept popping up; when I was young I would chalk them up to ‘I’ll understand later’ or ‘as I learn more I’ll figure it out’, but it never happened. By the time I was in my teens I was there just to keep the family happy; I became more aware of the underlying bigotry and hate, and my disagreements with the church as an organization piled up. I distinctly remember while on the way home after confirmation that I didn’t feel any different for having gone through it, and when I said it aloud, my father couldn’t provide any useful guidance, I sometimes think he doubts, but won’t or can’t bring himself to leave. As soon as I graduated I stopped going to mass regularly, sure that I didn’t want to be considered Catholic anymore, but still unsure of what I believed. In college I was a Classics major (these days I teach Latin), which is what finally killed any last vestige of faith I had. I spent a lot of time working with documents ranging in age from the Epic of Gilgamesh to the works of St. Augustine, and at every turn I saw just how deluded, how derivative, it all was. There was a sentiment throughout the classics department that went something like this: Studying these topics will either strengthen your faith and make it unbreakable, or destroy it utterly. Obviously, this applied most to Christian students, but seeing the way the religious sausage is made so-to-speak would have been enough, for me at least, to turn away from any faith. I never understood how anyone could learn all about this and still have faith, the cognitive dissonance just seemed so massive, yet I saw it happen with some of my fellow students. These days, except for weddings and funerals, I avoid going near churches.
You just unlocked a childhood memory of mine. At maybe 6 or 7 I found it very strange how closely my church’s dogma rhymed with various”pagan” mythologies that I’d read about. I recall asking my mom about it, in some childish way, and being taken aback at how unsatisfying her “paper over the cracks” response was. Later on, I also had a lot of “I’m supposed to feel something but don’t” moments. This was a source of considerable distress until I managed to deprogram myself.
(I grew up Catholic) All throughout my Sunday schooling the inconsistencies kept popping up; when I was young I would chalk them up to ‘I’ll understand later’ or ‘as I learn more I’ll figure it out’, but it never happened. By the time I was in my teens I was there just to keep the family happy; I became more aware of the underlying bigotry and hate, and my disagreements with the church as an organization piled up. I distinctly remember while on the way home after confirmation that I didn’t feel any different for having gone through it, and when I said it aloud, my father couldn’t provide any useful guidance, I sometimes think he doubts, but won’t or can’t bring himself to leave. As soon as I graduated I stopped going to mass regularly, sure that I didn’t want to be considered Catholic anymore, but still unsure of what I believed. In college I was a Classics major (these days I teach Latin), which is what finally killed any last vestige of faith I had. I spent a lot of time working with documents ranging in age from the Epic of Gilgamesh to the works of St. Augustine, and at every turn I saw just how deluded, how derivative, it all was. There was a sentiment throughout the classics department that went something like this: Studying these topics will either strengthen your faith and make it unbreakable, or destroy it utterly. Obviously, this applied most to Christian students, but seeing the way the religious sausage is made so-to-speak would have been enough, for me at least, to turn away from any faith. I never understood how anyone could learn all about this and still have faith, the cognitive dissonance just seemed so massive, yet I saw it happen with some of my fellow students. These days, except for weddings and funerals, I avoid going near churches.
You just unlocked a childhood memory of mine. At maybe 6 or 7 I found it very strange how closely my church’s dogma rhymed with various”pagan” mythologies that I’d read about. I recall asking my mom about it, in some childish way, and being taken aback at how unsatisfying her “paper over the cracks” response was. Later on, I also had a lot of “I’m supposed to feel something but don’t” moments. This was a source of considerable distress until I managed to deprogram myself.