This weekend Nathan and i made our first trip together to the house where his aunt, uncle and grandmother (all of whom i’d met once before) live in a small town in Nebraska. His sister and her boyfriend were also visiting and had arrived on Friday, and Nathan and i joined them on Saturday. When we arrived it was afternoon, and we had the option of joining his grandmother at the house or the other four at a pond for fishing. We went to the pond for a while first, then headed back to the house while the others visited a historic mill.
Shortly after we had walked through the door, put our things down, taken a short tour of the lower levels of the house and taken a seat in the living room to discuss weather and fishing conditions, Nathan’s grandmother decided to share with us a newspaper article about a veteran of the Vietnam war who lived in their small town and was apparently related to them somehow. She read the story of how he’d been shot at close range by an enemy soldier, the bullet ripping up through his leg and into his torso. His fellow soldiers left him for the medics to find, but more than a day passed before that happened and still he managed to survive. He was so glad that he’d been raised in a Christian home, he was quoted as saying, because his faith in God meant that he was not alone, lying there in that field.
Oh fuck, i thought. First his aunt’s complete disregard for me while we visited them at the pond an hour hence, reminiscent exactly of the treatment her sister (Nathan’s mother) had given me for a month or so after she found out about my atheism. Now an oral reading of this Christian tale. I was in for it. They’d been told.
His grandmother turned to me, sitting a couple cushions away from her on the couch, hands on my crossed knees. “I’d like to ask you something,” she said, and my blood started to run cold. “What church do you go to, honey?”
I glanced over her shoulder at Nathan, who mouthed the word “sorry” as he grimaced. I knew that with a single assertion, “I don’t believe in God and probably never will,” i could have opened a great truthful chasm between us, but i couldn’t do that to Nathan. I knew he’d take my side in the ensuing battle, and his relationship with his family would never be the same. It wasn’t my decision to make. “I don’t go to church.” I said with a smile, anticipating the onslaught of further questions.
“Did you ever go to church, maybe when you were younger, with your family or something?”
“Yes, when i was young i went to church.”
“What church was it?”
“I believe it was a baptist church.”
“And did you stop going when your family stopped?”
“They didn’t go with me, actually.”
“You went all alone? Well, that was very brave of you to go to church without your family.”
“I went with a friend. I wanted to sing in the choir.” I smiled again, trying to keep the mood as casual as possible. Nathan sat quietly, giving me a steady apologetic look.
“Is singing something that you’ve always wanted to do?” She inquired, and i thought maybe there was a chance of diverting her if only i could keep the conversation going in this new direction.
“Yes, i was in a chamber choir in high school, and, uh, i auditioned for the choir in college but i had never learned to sight-read music, so they rejected me.” My heart was pounding and i imagine my face was flushed a bright red, and i was scrambling for anything relevant to say.
She asked Nathan about his ability to read music, and we discussed guitar tablature briefly, but we were just procrastinating.
Finally she said what she actually had to say. She told me a story about how she used to teach a rhyme to her students and to the sunday school children about being baptized and forgiven of one’s sins, and that finally one day she’d realized that what she had taught these children was completely wrong, because no human action can save a person. The holy spirit must enter a person and give her faith, and only in this way can one be saved. She was so ashamed for teaching this little rhyme that she withdrew her family from the Lutheran church, and now they no longer attend church, but are still faithful people.
She discussed why salvation is of such great import, and at some point she made a reference to the man in the article and i had to bite my tongue not to say aloud “yeah, well, there are no atheists in foxholes.”
She told me that i should start a conversation with Nathan’s mother, and answer her questions in the same sweet and direct way that i just had, and that she could help me to pray for the holy spirit to enter me. She told Nathan that she hoped he would read the bible she had given to him every day, and that he and i would read it together and that he would pray for my salvation. Because she wants the two of us to join her in the hereafter some day, and because faith is the most important thing, forever.
I wanted to explain to her that i would never even consider starting such a dialogue, because to me it’s as good as fact that there is no hereafter, there is no supernatural soul housed within my material being and there is certainly no great creator who holds me dangling on a string above eternal hellfire. But i knew that to say any such thing would be like speaking Greek to a person like this. I had struggled to make sense of what she preached, and i knew that she would probably have an even harder time trying to understand that, from my perspective, holy entities and my own “immortal soul” simply do not exist, just as Zeus, unicorns, Santa Claus and personal auras do not exist.
So i just sat there, smiling a half-smile. Not nodding, because of course i do not agree in any way. She said that she hoped i wasn’t mad at her for saying these things and touched my hand, and i smiled and said i wasn’t mad. I didn’t burden her with the fact that she’d made me feel completely uncomfortable in her home within the hour that i’d arrived. Clearly she already carries the burden of worrying about the souls of people she barely knows, and takes it as her responsibility to see to it that we are saved. She has willfully taken the heavy and dismal delusion upon her shoulders, and in a way i wish i could save her just as she wishes to save me. But my verbal weaponry against the foe of delusion is reason, and faith has a way of evading such ammunition, especially that wielded by such an unskilled marksman as myself.
The visit went on and religion was not mentioned to me directly again. Nathan’s aunt continued to deny my existence except for perhaps four words at most. We ate in different rooms or at different times. The two dogs at least did not discriminate – one hates everyone, the other simply wants attention. His grandmother was always polite and kind, but as we four visitors left the next day my alienation was undeniably spelled out. The two grandchildren got warm hugs and kisses goodbye. Nathan’s sister’s jewish boyfriend also got hugs, and everyone began to exit through the front door. I offered a weak “thanks” and a little wave of the hand as Nathan’s aunt became engrossed in holding the dog’s collar and his grandmother clutched her sweater around her with a smile. I exited the old house knowing that they were glad to be rid of me, though they know nothing whatsoever about who i am or what i have to offer. I am human, you know, i thought. I can feel your rejection and – look! – i can even cry.
Monday, June 8th, 2009 1:20 pm • religion, road trips
RSS 2.0 feed •
leave a comment •
trackback
June 8th, 2009 at 1:31 pm
wow…
don’t people know that you never talk about religion…or money…or politics the first time you meet someone? thats just AWKWARD
June 8th, 2009 at 2:02 pm
too many christians talk without waiting to listen. and judge without regard. i’d be pissed too.
June 8th, 2009 at 4:22 pm
Dang. You make the Foster family seem like a cakewalk…. although, they just go ahead and force me to go to church. If I won’t then they make me sit down in the living room while their priest uncle gives a sermon. All I could think while reading this was “Oh—My—God!” – which is funny, haha.
I REALLY liked how you told the story, though. Beautiful writing. I just have one thing to say: you better make sure this boy is the right one, because his family will treat you like that for the rest of your life. Look at my Mom and my Dad’s mother.
I also really loved when you said, “…and in a way I wish I could save her just as she wishes to save me.” Well put.
June 8th, 2009 at 11:40 pm
Ohhhh my gosh! You were one brave girl! Nathan’s grandma is scary! I remember one time she found a Harry Potter poster in Elizabeth’s car and freaked out. Because you know, Harry Potter is obviously the devil. I’m sorry you felt rejected. I hope that Nathan warned you before hand. Good job for standing your ground. Don’t get too discouraged because of this really uncomfortable incident. I guess it is a good thing they live in Nebraska! haha
June 9th, 2009 at 6:17 am
I love how a lot of Christians judge people for their beliefs and ways of life…it’s so hypocritical.
I’m Christian, but I don’t go to church, and I quit going to church because I was sick of watching all the hypocrites go through the motions and not practicing what was truly important — being a good person and being good to other people. Really, to me, that’s what religion is about — and when it comes down to it, all religions are essentially the same — a set of morals and rules based around a center belief/diety. The main reason I proclaim my Christiainity is because for me, it’s just easier to belief in a higher power even though chances are it doesn’t exist.
What a crappy crappy situation. Seriously. If I judged my friends by their beliefs I’d probably have a total of 3 friends left. My friend Mark is a satanist.
I love reading your blog entries. It’s almost like I am there sharing your crappy situation. I agree with Nina — I’m guessing his family will treat you like this forever – so get used to the uncomfortableness of it.
June 9th, 2009 at 2:04 pm
religion is more than a moral code, it’s about grace and forgiveness. i am an alcoholic and yet a christian, thought it’s condemned in the bible, i am given grace. though i’d love to believe that he doesn’t, god exists. jesus didn’t bash christianity over people’s heads, he was mysterious. people that shun others for not having similar beliefs are doing it all wrong…
June 9th, 2009 at 2:06 pm
We know better.
I agree with Nina, too.
June 10th, 2009 at 12:01 pm
I want to reassure all of you that i’d be willing to put up with this and a lot worse for the rest of my life to be with Nathan. He’s most definitely worth it.
Calee, i must say your comment baffles me. It’s easier to believe in a higher power even though chances are that it probably doesn’t exist? Doesn’t that statement imply that you don’t actually believe in it? How can pretending to believe in something you don’t really believe in be easier than accepting its nonexistence? There is no problem with the nonexistence of God. I don’t understand why people are so frightened of that possibility.
And anyway, religion isn’t all about being a good person. Being human is about being a good person. Anyone can look at what Jesus supposedly preached and say “those are some pretty good ideas,” regardless of whether he or she believes in his existence or divinity – just as anyone can look at the God of the Old Testament and say “wow… he was a pretty fucked up and angry dude.”
June 10th, 2009 at 8:32 pm
Oh mannnnnn that sounds incredibly awkward. It sounds like you handled it very well though! Hooray for awkward families. My grandma is one of those that likes to preach too… only usually it’s things like the evils of natural sweeteners in diet sodas, or what have you. Telling my grandma that you drink diet soda is probably akin to telling Nathan’s grandma you don’t go to church. You’d get an earful. Only it’s less painfully awkward and more, well, eye-roll-inducing ridiculousness. Ok so maybe it’s not the same thing at all. But old ladies like to preach… there, I tied it together.
Also, his aunt sounds incredibly rude. I’d have a hard time not being a bitch to someone like that.
Also also: what other people said – it’s hypocritical to judge/shun others when you are supposedly practicing the Christian faith. Missed message for 500, Alex. D’oh.
Also x3: I never see you anymore. Fix that.
June 11th, 2009 at 6:51 am
My generation is hard to accept at times. Values are ingrained form the influences of time, people and events. Being incensitive is so ironic because we feel we are just the opposite when imparting “advise” to a younger person. Steph I love you so much and it is painful to read a tale in which you hurt like this. I only hope Nathan can resolve his love and respect for his family and to you while this senario does exsist.
Mary is really an admirer of your writing skill (and of you as well) and wants to spend some time with you when you are in ORE. I have told you before, you need to find a vehicle to expose your words to others. Your writing may be as influencial as the words of a carpenter’s son were a little over 2000 years ago. Love you much.
June 11th, 2009 at 9:11 pm
Steph,
I really “enjoyed” (hah?) reading this because I can relate to you – not to the extremity of this specific situation, but in general, put-on-the-spotness when really, one just wants to escape it tactfully – and feel like, I don’t know, I can absorb some of the shittiness. Which of course, like the short list of ridculousness you listed, doesn’t make sense.
Just sayin, the one thing atheists are missing (besides unjustified comfort/calm that usually leads to lower blood pressure and longer lives) is community. Let’s commiserate!
Good luck navigating this situation.. and I seriously respect your classy but honest adherence to your core self.