Sunday, September 15, 2013

breaking up with the flying spaghetti monster

As of today, if anyone asks me: "Are you a Christian?" My answer would be: "No."

Three people asked me today if I were going to church in the morning. I said no.

I wouldn't consider myself an atheist, nor an agnostic. If we must label things, I guess you could call me a skeptic. I find atheism to be just a flip side of organized religiosity, full of smug certainty over things that are only attainable through totally subjectively determined faith. I find agnosticism too intellectually and morally lazy, like choosing non-movement as a motion.

But to then say, based on my choices, that I'll go with the most optimistic, fun-loving, Pollyanna option just because I'm culturally inclined to do so seems a bit disingenuous too.

If I believe God exists, I would be a Christian out of all the religions. The problem now is: I no longer believe.

I might suspect, from time to time, out of habit. When the baby started wracking up thick phlegmy coughs and cried out in pain in between these fits today, I caught myself starting to pray. Habits, empty habits.

And I'm starting to understand other people's annoyance with religious people's attempts to convert/interest them. In parts manipulative, in parts poorly reasoned. Lots of false dichotomies.

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