I was born and raised Catholic. That is: Baptism-Communion-Confirmation.
With two Catholic parents, there was no other option for me when I entered the world. Like a brand on my arm, I respond to people with this information when asked me about my religion. I am not, however, Catholic.
When I came out in my late teens/early twenties, again in my mid-twenties and lastly in my early thirties, I had so much trouble trying to rectify who I was with “my birth religion.” Science only furthered my estrangement …and my disillusionment. At one point in my life, I believed it impossible for a truly intelligent person to believe in God or any organized religion, at all.
How was this not obvious to anyone with an I.Q. over 90?
Religion was created by MAN for a multitude of reasons, not the least of which was moral sovereignty over the masses. How do you keep people honest without some decisive consequences? It also helped people hold someone accountable for incomprehensible occurrences like weather and the cosmos.
After reading too many articles about how religion came into existence, it became almost impossible to believe in God – in the religious sense.
I feel there is enough research out there to make even the stealthiest of fanatics convert to agnosticism. The bigger issue for me is that even though I consider myself to be somewhat intelligent, there is still a nagging feeling (10 years of catechism anyone?) of, “what if?”
When my son was born, I decided to have him baptized. Why? Because it was important to my parents. My husband was disinterested in this proposition but finally acquiesced because it was important to me. Further, my dad explained to my husband that even though he himself wasn’t sure there was a God, what if there was? Wouldn’t my husband want to do all he could when it came to his child? He did. So, we did.
I had my son baptized in an Episcopal church when he was six months old. He now has three godparents – my sister and my husband’s two brothers. We had a luncheon following the simple ceremony of head dunking.
Done.
Nearly six years later, my daughter was born. She is now 16 months old and I haven’t yet pulled the trigger on her baptism. Why? I don’t know.
Or do I? Perhaps because since my father’s passing, my relationship with God has only gotten further strained. That nagging feeling I once had is now filled with grief over the loss of my father and the denial of God’s existence…almost completely.
Almost.
I will have my daughter baptized. Partly because of what my dad said. Do I know for absolute certainty that there is no God? No.
Also, in part, because I don’t want her to grow up thinking I didn’t care enough to do for her what I did for her brother. Because I do care.
After all , it’s just a little head dunking and a nice lunch.