My childhood was filled with wonder, pain, love, happiness, sadness, loneliness, warmth, caring, teaching, fear, and many other emotions and experiences that range the entire spectrum of the human experience. For that, I thank you.
With the exception of the first grade, I spent my entire pre-college education in Catholic schools where I was taught that a man walked on water, was born of a virgin, died for our sins, brought a friend back from the dead several days after rigormortis had set in, and rose from the dead himself. If one is to also believe the Mormon account, he apparently rematerialized in North America soon after to save the souls of the Native Americans, but that was kept a secret until Joseph Smith somehow figured it out several thousand years later. We learned that the earth was created in six days and that eating a small, tasteless cracker under proper circumstances was the equivalent of sacred cannabilism. We learned that dressing a woman in all black and white and demanding that she abstain from normal human relations is NOT a good way to foster happy, optimistic, positive role models for children. If my tone does not sufficiently contain enough sarcasm, allow me to unabashedly say that I do not believe in these holy myths any longer, though it took me many years of painful soul searching to reach this conclusion. I still love you.
I recall learning to suppress a gag reflex as a priest shook a cannister of burning incense nearby while chanting mystical dogma. The smell still lingers in my mind as a horrific experince. We knelt, prayed, asked for forgiveness for our mortal sins, accepted that we were lowly creatures admittedly unworthy of god's attention, while asking for this attention anyway. We learned that hell is a place for those not sufficiently devoted to constant subservience, and that it is an eternity of pain, misery, lonelines, and horrific agony. We learned this while we were still too young to think critically. If any of us were precocious enough to question any of the teachings, we were quickly taught that such analysis would not be permitted. Independent thought was stomped out of our malleable minds. I still love you.
I was never touched inappropriately by a priest, nun, or any other authority figure. I was never rapped on the back of my knuckles by a teacher. I do not specifically recall experiencing any of the commonly heard indignities that so many of my fellow Catholic schoolchildren seem to have endured. In all, great efforts were made to make the Catholic experience a positive one. I was proud to have been born into a Catholic family, as I clearly had the good fortune to have been selected as one of the people to be blessed with the one true faith, while many of my little friends had no hope of finding salvation.
As I watch my two young sons grow and develop minds of their own, I have consciously decided to spare them this experience. I don't know when it all happened, but I did realize at a certain point that my ingrained belief system simply does not hold up to any sort of critical thinking. I had to let go and accept that I was wrong, my teachers were wrong, my priests were wrong, the nuns were wrong, the multi-billion dollar organization known as the Catholic Church was wrong, my understanding of "Atheists" was wrong, Pat Robertson in wrong, the Muslim Mullah's are wrong, the Talmudic Scholars are wrong, and yes Mom and Dad, you were both wrong. I still love you.
As I do my best to raise my children to be good people capable of thinking for themselves and positively contributing to society, I do so with the intent of being right, and of teaching them what is right. To do this, I need to constantly accept that I could be wrong, and to challenge myself to point them in the right direction, no matter what that may be. They may grow up as scientists, mechanics, scholars, plumbers, or anything in between. If they do so of their own free will, and without the burden of eternal consequences weighing down their every decision, I will be happy. It will have been right.
Does constant selfishness make for a happy experience and existence? My experience tells me no. I have good friends because I treat my friends well. I make new friends because I treat strangers well too. I do this not because it is commanded by a deity, but because it makes me happy to share my happiness with others, and to share in their joy as well. I run a successful business because I realize that treating employees and clients with respect, dignity, and fairness will result in good work and happy customers. I donate some of my earnings to those less fortunate because it makes me feel good to know that I can help. Whether or not this is demanded by god is irrelevent to me. It makes me happy, it makes others happy, and it hurts nobody. If I am a godless heathen for acting in such a way, so be it.
I strive regularly to do what's right because this is what makes for a happy, contented existence here on earth. I want my children to learn that selflessness, charity, hard work and friendly positive interactions with others will also make them happy, healthy, and fulfilled. There doesn't need to be a promise of paradise or fear of hell to move me in this direction. This is simply what is right.
Here's the thing though. When you were bringing me up, you also did what you believed was right. This was what you were taught, and this is what you believed. You thought that this belief system was what we needed in order to be good people, so you taught it to us. You believed that the fear of god was what drove people to positive action and you wanted us to be good people. You loved us unconditionally, and you did all the things you thought were right. For that, I love you, I thank you, and I hope you will always know how proud I am to have been raised by wonderful parents such as you.
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