were you brought up in a religious household?

[doctorlouie]

It seems a good number of us here have, to use a hackneyed phrase, lost our faith. Plenty of us have no religious beliefs (though a good number would call themselves spiritual, I guess), but have alluded to some sort of religious background.

So what's your story?

I was brought up in a church going Methodist household (my parents are Sunday morning regulars still and my sister goes to something similar and is active in youth work). My maternal grandmother was a devout Methodist until her dying day (as was her husband, but he died in 1950). My other gran went to the local Chapel most Sunday evenings, but her husband is a weddings and funerals kind if guy. He's 92.

I lapsed when I went to Poly in 1985. I was still involved a little (through some youth work), but to be honest I can't remember ever really believing much of it, ever. More later if the thread takes off.

[Bucolic Old Sir Henry]

This would be an entire chapter - perhaps more - in my memoirs, so don't expect me to give everything away here…

M & P are devout non-conformists, mum more than dad, but in the way of long marriages he has come to share her views to the extent of being a church elder while she does the flowers, visits the sick and does general good works. As they're in their mid-80s, many funerals are involved.

When I was growing up I went to church every Sunday, and my mother was often the Sunday school teacher. However... as soon as I was old enough to make up my own mind I stopped going, and these days I only go on special (or sad) occasions.

I am - perhaps as a consequence of my upbringing - certain that we are the product of our genes, and that when I die, I will rot (unless cremated) and that my immortal soul is a myth. I do, however, plan to live forever. I am reliably informed that half a bottle of pinot noir per day performs this miracle, and so I have planted a vineyard.

Pip pip!

[Deebank]

I am an atheist - and so are my family pretty much, so you could say I'm keeping the (lack of) faith.

I do think you tend to follow your parents to a large degree. I try to tell my daughter to believe whatever suits her, but she seems to follow the party line, having asked us what we believe in. I hate the idea of christians trying to convert her. I get the impression she feels left out a bit.

Having said that, the village school where I lived was - in the North Wales tradition - very methodist at heart and I did get into trouble for voicing skepticism a couple of times, until I learnt to keep schtum. FUnnily enough, one teacher said in horror and disbelief: "Your brother (Copehead) would never have said anything like that" after I tried to explain the big bang to her .

The local comp was a more easy going place, although the head liked to do the whole blood and thunder preaching bit - by that stage it was easier just to laugh at the hipocracy and pomposity.

[doctorlouie]

I do, however, plan to live forever. I am reliably informed that half a bottle of pinot noir per day performs this miracle, and so I have planted a vineyard.

If I drink a whole bottle can I live twice forever?

[pang5]

Oh sure, we went to RC church every Sunday and my father and older sister were even in the choir. However, my dad was a socialist type (did the hootenanny shindigs in the fifties with Guthrie and Seeger and all.) My mother dropped out of church-going early but was still quite spiritual.
My older sister has become an Episcopalian and my younger is a freakin Wiccan type. (We need a "crushing hippies" smiley. We really do.)
I first started falling out with the church over the excommunication of my aunt. Her cunt of a husband had left her long before with two young sons to raise. Later, she found a fellow who was interested in her and he moved in and was great with my cousins. She went back to church that Sunday and the priest at the entrance closed the door in her face.
The hypocrisy drove me nuts!
I completely locked and barred the door to the RCC later during the Father Porter shuffling that went on in the States. He was one of the more famous pedophile priests and the church simply shuffled him from one parish and diocese to another.
I am spiritual and am loath to tell others what is or is not true regarding the ether since I've no idea myself.

[Scally Mcgrew]

Roman Catholic upbringing.

When I went, accompanied by my dad and my brother Tom, to make my first confession, I was asking dad what I had to say and pleading with him to tell me what constituted a sin, so I didn't go in empty-handed.

Now, bear in mind that I'd been jealous of Tom, occasionally, for getting the odd toy which I would have preferred to my toys.

So, in I go:

'Bless me father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession'.

'Welcome, my child. Confess your sins and you will receive absolution'.

So, I mentione d afew things, such as telling lies, being late for mass, things like that.

Just as I was starting to think it wasn't too bad, he asked if I had any more, and seemed disappointed when I hesitated. Not wanting to let him down, I blurted out another one, about my occasional jealousy of Tom.

Unfortunately, I didn't choose quite the right word for this.

'Bless me, father, I have had impure thoughts about my brother'.

'You've WHAT!!?? Ya dirty little bastard. Any more of that and you'll go straight to HELL!!

While I knelt there, quivering, hair standing on end, he gave me a penance consisting of twenty 'Our Fathers' and forty 'Hail Marys' and growled at me to leave the confessional.

As my dad and Tom had to wait ages while I said my prayers, they both pestered me about it on the way home, but I used to confessional privilege to avoid answering them, When I did tell Tom, later that night, he pointed out my incorrect use of words. That was after he'd been laughing for about ten minutes.

Strangely enough, rather than that first confession being my 'entrance into the church', it turned out, in my mind, to be more of an 'entrance into the church and straight out the back door' experience, as I grew up with no respect for the RC church whatsoever.

Bastads.

[The Great DeFector]

I was in a typical Irish catholic family. My ma was mad in to going to mass and that. Now by typical Irish Catholic family I mean the priest was like the local celebrity. My granny lived with us for her last few years and so the local priest would come to house once a month to give communion. The house cleaning started 3 days before and you would think the president of Ireland was coming to visit us. I hated this, I just seen another person and hated this control over a person. My father seen religion as part of life. Going to mass was just as part of his Irish life as having dinner, going to work or going to sleep. Don’t question it, his parents went to mass, his grandparents went to mass so he should. Growing up mass was seen as hateful part of Sunday morning, so when I was at the age of 5 or 6 I would be bored and my ma would struggle to keep me quiet. However when I got older and started to listen to want was said at mass, I was interested in how fucking stupid and amoral it was. My cousin had a kid outside of marriage and then got divorced which got a reply to do with religion from my mother.

I was also and alter boy (and no I didn‘t get touched up or anything in case someone asks) and some of the priests were so full of themselves it was ridiculous. I once seen a priest give out to a woman who helps clean the church. He didn’t shout or anything but his tone of voice degraded her so much it was sickening. The woman was about 60 and the priest was only 30 something. When I mentioned this to my mother, she just said “well the church has to be clean”. This woman didn’t get paid to clean the church, she was doing it out of “duty”.

The day I said was wasn’t going to mass, my father was angry and couldn’t understand why no matter how much I tried to explain. Like I said before, I don’t think going to mass was because of the religion with him it was just a part of life. My mother cried and I still get the odd well I hope you change your mind before you face god.

[pang5]

Roman Catholic upbringing.

When I went, accompanied by my dad and my brother Tom, to make my first confession, I was asking dad what I had to say and pleading with him to tell me what constituted a sin, so I didn't go in empty-handed.

Now, bear in mind that I'd been jealous of Tom, occasionally, for getting the odd toy which I would have preferred to my toys.

So, in I go:

'Bless me father, for I have sinned. This is my first confession'.

'Welcome, my child. Confess your sins and you will receive absolution'.

So, I mentione d afew things, such as telling lies, being late for mass, things like that.

Just as I was starting to think it wasn't too bad, he asked if I had any more, and seemed disappointed when I hesitated. Not wanting to let him down, I blurted out another one, about my occasional jealousy of Tom.

Unfortunately, I didn't choose quite the right word for this.

'Bless me, father, I have had impure thoughts about my brother'.

'You've WHAT!!?? Ya dirty little bastard. Any more of that and you'll go straight to HELL!!

While I knelt there, quivering, hair standing on end, he gave me a penance consisting of twenty 'Our Fathers' and forty 'Hail Marys' and growled at me to leave the confessional.

As my dad and Tom had to wait ages while I said my prayers, they both pestered me about it on the way home, but I used to confessional privilege to avoid answering them, When I did tell Tom, later that night, he pointed out my incorrect use of words. That was after he'd been laughing for about ten minutes.

Strangely enough, rather than that first confession being my 'entrance into the church', it turned out, in my mind, to be more of an 'entrance into the church and straight out the back door' experience, as I grew up with no respect for the RC church whatsoever.

Bastads.

Hell, that's great.
My dad would go from one parish to another so as to avoid telling the priest the same sins each week. Well, one summer Saturday I went with him to this nice church out in Rockville, MD.
I was deathly afraid of bees at the time which becomes a pertinent fact as you will soon see.
While my dad was out in the pews doing his penance, I was knelt in the confessional fine and dandy. I started off,
"Bless me father for I have sinned and OH MY GOD! THERE'S A BEE IN HERE!!!"
The poor priest calmly says, "Ignore it, my child and it won't bother you."
"Yes, father. Ok. AAAAAAAAAAA. HE'S LANDED ON ME!!!
So, the priest comes out of the middle nook where he was sitting and enters my confessional. As he tells me to move aside, he takes his missal (?) and crashing it down onto the window ledge, whales the spine on that poor little bee.
My dad sitting outside was very worried about what sins I'd confessed.

[doctorlouie]

...I still get the odd well I hope you change your mind before you come before god.

My Mum has occaisionally said that she hopes that there's "still something there". I suppose she hopes I still believe something; enough to get me in, if you like. The weird thing is that I was more bored of the church going than anything else. I had friends there (some of whom I still have) and enjoyed the social side of some of it. I'm also grateful to some for some of the moral teaching. Methodism can be quite radical in the UK and a little of that rubbed off on me. I had lunch with a churchgoing friend (retired from the careers service) who, once again, propounded that Margaret Thatcher was/is evil. Which shows that prog has nothing on the broadness of that particular church.

[Walk In My Shadow]

My parenst were socialists and wouldn't let me join the boy scouts.
They did send me to mass untill I was 12.
Then they said it was up to me if I wanted to go or stay away.
Eversince I only went for funerals.

[Show Biz Kids]

I hope you change your mind before you come before god.

He really is all seeing and all knowing.

[The Great DeFector]

I hope you change your mind before you come before god.

He really is all seeing and all knowing.

dickhead.

[Walk In My Shadow]

I hope you change your mind before you come before god.

He really is all seeing and all knowing.

dickhead.

He is? Really?

[Show Biz Kids]

In answer to the question from Mr Louie, the answer is no, so God bless my atheist parents.

[The Great DeFector]

He really is all seeing and all knowing.

dickhead.

He is? Really?

Well no he’s not, he doesn’t exist. You know about Santa too right?

[Scally Mcgrew]

In answer to the question from Mr Louie, the answer is no, so God bless my atheist parents.

Ho ho ho!

[Show Biz Kids]

In answer to the question from Mr Louie, the answer is no, so God bless my atheist parents.

Ho ho ho!

2 crap jokes in one thread.
I'll get my coat.

[Samoan]

Sort of , as I got christened and confirmed and stuff. Only Mum . Dad never went to any place of worship - probably was a silent atheist .

I've been an Atheist since ~ late teens .


My Dad , brought up Methodist , once accompanied Mum to church under sufferance . The vicar told him ,
"Not to worry , God loves Methodists too " . Which was nice .

[Velvis]

I was raised Catholic and went to a Catholic school from first through eighth grade. Although I've left the church and now espouse no religious beliefs, I have a tremendous amount of nostalgia for those formative years. I love books like Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man, Angela's Ashes, and Do Black Patent Leather Shoes Really Reflect Up?. Those Catholic coming of age stories always feel like coming home. I still love the mythology of Christianity...the symbolism and how biblical references and metaphors give power to stories. The Stations of the Cross are still a powerful thing to meditate on. And there's probably the same value to saying a rosary as there is to a half hour of secular meditation.

I still feel as though my upbringing was a net gain. I took more good from it than bad. And I thank those nuns and priests who helped set me on my way through life. In my life, none of them abused their authority or their relationships with the young souls they were charged with. They were good people.

I was reading recently about how we don't really have "selves". Our brains have different areas that are carrying on different functions, but to the extent they integrate, that integration is what gives the notion of the continuity of "self", or, alternatively, "spirit". Maybe that's the most important role religion plays. To help integrate the self. Whether it be going to mass, meditating under a tree, or spending some time in a sweat lodge on peyote.

But once you've lost your faith in a personal God, what do you replace it with? There still, I believe, should be some intensely inner-looking, self-improving "spiritual" part of life.

[The Great DeFector]

But once you've lost your faith in a personal God, what do you replace it with? .

Morals? fun? Being able to think for yourself? personal empowerment?