Father’s Day – Skeptic Style
On this Sunday, June 20th, I’d like to take a minute to honor one of more influential skeptics in my life—my dad.
When my parents first married, my mom assumed she was marrying a fellow Catholic. Within a few years, however, my dad realized he simply didn’t believe in god. My parents agreed to raise my brother and me as Catholics, and my dad always supported this decision in the respect that he always helped get us into the car on Sunday mornings—but he didn’t go to church himself, and he made no secret of the fact that he thought the basic tenets of Christianity were ”ludicrous.”
My parents agreed to disagree on this matter, and told my brother and me that we would be raised Catholic, but would be free to make our own decision once we were old enough. My dad explained that while he found religion absurd, he understood that faith was important to most people and he respected their right to believe as they saw fit. My mom never wavered in her own faith, but told us that my skeptical father was a good person, and in the end that’s what would matter to God. As a result of this honesty and mutual respect, my brother and I developed compassion for those who disagree with us—and, of course, the ability to think and decide things for ourselves.
My father stood by as I declared myself a devout Catholic in my teenage years, never showing any desire to force his lack of belief on me. I went off to prayer meetings and Sunday evening youth group gatherings without a doubt in the world, but I began to wonder if my dad, who seemed to have everything else in life figured out, might be missing out in this department.
One day, I asked him how he could not believe in God at all. After all, I pointed out, something had to create the world, something had to put us all here. How on earth could he explain that, if there was no God? Surely, I thought, THAT was knock-down argument.
“Sara, I can’t explain how the world started. But,” he added, and this was the clincher: “That doesn’t mean I need to MAKE UP an answer. I’m comfortable with saying that I just don’t know.”
That was the moment that the clouds parted and angels (of skepticism, not Christianity) began to sing. I realized that there might not be very much difference between something “made up” and something believed on faith. I did not become an atheist overnight, but this conversation led me directly to examine my beliefs in a critical light for the first time—an exciting journey for which I am exceedingly grateful.
My dad remains a man of unending class and compassion; to this day, he is my role model for (among other things) approaching difficult subjects with tact, and working to understand another person’s point of view. At a recent funeral for a family member, I suggested that a kneeling bench beside the casket may not be necessary. My dad gently informed me that while he and I would have no desire to pray, the other guests should have the option to kneel and say a prayer by the casket if they wished to do so. Humbled, I had to admit that he was right.
Happy Father’s Day, Dad. And, as always, thank you.
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That is a beautiful story. My father was a converted Christian. I was educated as roman catholic in England. I must have been around 9 on my first communion while kneeling down and praying after receiving the “body of Christ” for the first time. I had been hyped up in the build up to the big day about how I would receive the sacrament and Jesus or god or the holy sprit would make me a better person. As much as I prayed and prayed I felt nothing special. I remember looking at my fellow classmates to see if there faces illuminated. I felt bad because I thought maybe I was just a bad person and Jesus didn’t want me to feel good. Then suddenly I was illuminated much in the same way you where. It’s all a load of fairy tails. I was young at the time and still was drag to church every Sunday. I wasn’t that bad because my father played the organ in church and I’ve always enjoyed music.
That’s one thing I learnt from my Dad, the love of music. He die respecting my atheisms and always said that one day I would find Jesus somewhere inside me. I know that won’t happen but as much as religion can divide the world. Musician’s from anywhere in the world can get together and play without even speaking the same language. And that is good.
Thanks for sharing your story! Although I became a more dedicated Christian between the ages of about 15-19, I definitely remember all those times as a young child (first communion, for example) when I sat with the other kids and wondered why I wasn’t experiencing the pure joy I should be feeling. I also remember, as you said, the feeling of relief when I eventually realized it was all a bunch of “fairy tales.”
I’m glad you and your father were able to reach a mutual respect, and a shared love for music. I think it’s wonderful that although you clearly disagreed in major ways, you found common ground in others. This world would be a better place, not necessarily if we all thought the same things, but if we all showed respect and compassion for those who disagree with us.