Dear Answer Lady (Emily),
I'm an atheist, but many of my relatives are very religious. This doesn't come up very often-for one, I don't see my relatives that much-but when they send me cards they often make reference to God, prayers, blessings, etc. My cards say things like "Happy Birthday" and "Congratulations." However, I recently sent a get well soon card to my aunt who has a chronic illness. I know she takes comfort knowing that people are praying for her, but I can't in good conscience claim to be praying for her-even though I'm thinking about her and hoping for an improvement in her health. From their perspective, I think this sounds somewhat flimsy.
Shortly after, my uncle-in-law's mother passed away, and I expressed my condolences and likewise said that I was "thinking of him in this difficult time." Again, I felt like I wasn't saying the sort of thing he wants to hear. Since thinking and hoping for someone is kind of like prayer, should I just split the difference and use their term? Especially since they're the ones going through a hard time? Or is it insulting to their faith to use a language I don't believe in, just to gloss over some social difficulties?
All Best,
Just Like A Prayer?
Dear Just Like A Prayer?,
I spent a lot of time pondering the answer to your question-I focused my intention and thought about your problem hard and hoped for a resolution that would satisfy everyone! But does that mean I prayed over it?
Well, it depends who you ask. I'm pretty sure that in either of the spiritual traditions I am familiar with-Ultra-Reform Acoustic Guitar And Rainbow Kente Cloth Yarmulke Judaism, and yoga-this kind of thinking and hoping could pass for "prayer." Addressing your prayers to a deity isn't as important, in my interpretation of these schools of thought, as using prayer as a meditative practice, a way of getting in touch with the universe outside your own head.
One of the things I always liked about the temple I grew in with was my rabbi's constant reassurance that, despite how some of the language we mouthed during services made it seem, God wasn't an egomaniac who required our constant worship. Instead, prayer was meant to be a way for us to shape our inquiries and seek meaning outside ourselves. Via this school of thought, you wouldn't exactly be lying to your relatives if you did want to say you were praying for them, because your feelings are the same as theirs even though the words you feel comfortable using are different.
Mm, but. My two-sentence Talmud aside, I wonder whether you really ought to kowtow to your sickly, elderly relatives' wishes. Your real question, it seems to me, is, "Should I fudge the truth about my beliefs in order to prevent my family's feelings from being hurt?" And my answer to this is actually no. I mean, if granny on her deathbed is like "And now I can go to my heavenly father, to get my eternal reward," it is definitely not your job to volunteer that she is equally likely to meet Rainbow Brite and a magical winged pony and Santa Claus all hanging out with Jesus on the Other Side.
But at the same time, you shouldn't feel that you have to fake religious faith you don't feel. I know this will sound weird coming from me, but spirituality is intensely personal and private! It might be the only thing I feel to be truly private. And, assuming they know about your atheism, when your relatives impose their "praying for you" and "God" and "blessings" on you, they are being rude and invasive. It's fine for them to pray for you, of course, but it's also fine for them to keep it to themselves.
So I think you should keep doing exactly what you're doing, Just, and you should be honest, if pressed, about why you're doing it. Fortunately for you, part of their religiosity is-or ought to be-a deep-rooted belief in forgiveness. And if you get static, you can feel very free to remind them of this as often as necessary.
PS: Life is a mystery. Everyone must stand alone. Sorry, I just had to get it out of my system.
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Amen.
Irony!
Great, now I've got Enter Sandman looped on repeat in my brain.
My favorite story about 'Enter Sandman' and the Black Album in general is how Bob Rock, trying to tweak some of the Metallica cliches, suggested that James replace his trademark 'yeah-UUH''s with some other equivalent type rock 'n roll trop. To wit, there is a version of 'Enter Sandman' (which I believe you can find on the 'A Year an a Half in the Life' documentary, it's been a while) where any 'yeah-UUH!' from the more familiar version of the song has been replaced with a 'WOMAN!' It is surreal and it is beautiful and once you've heard it you can't unhear it in every single Metallica song ever.
*trope!
So true. The only acceptable time to fake religious faith is when one finds oneself in The Tombs.
Note: on my deathbed, if someone could tell me I'm maybe going to meet Rainbow Brite and a magical winged pony, I'd really appreciate it.
-And what is death, he asked, your mother's or yours or my own? You saw only your mother die. I see them pop off every day in the Mater and Richmond and cut up into tripes in the dissectingroom. It's a beastly thing and nothing else. It simply doesn't matter. You wouldn't kneel down to pray for your mother on her deathbed when she asked you. Why? Because you have the cursed jesuit strain in you, only it's injected the wrong way. To me it's all a mockery and beastly. Her cerebral lobes are not functioning. She calls the doctor sir Peter Teazle and picks buttercups off the quilt. Humour her till it's over. You crossed her last wish in death and yet you sulk with me because I don't whinge like some hired mute from Lalouette's. Absurd! I suppose I did say it. I didn't mean to offend the memory of your mother.
He had spoken himself into boldness. Stephen, shielding the gaping wounds which the words had left in his heart, said very coldly:
-I am not thinking of the offence to my mother.
-Of what then? Buck Mulligan asked.
-Of the offence to me, Stephen answered.
Buck Mulligan swung round on his heel.
-O, an impossible person! he exclaimed.
You're 4 days early.
You do not cooperate with me, and you pick and chose the the things YOU want me to do. That is not happening anymore. Stop speaking for me. I have MY own voice. What are u gonna do fire me for volunteering for the bloomsday reading hahaha ur crazy No I am doing this appearance. You do not need details. Its for BLOOMSDAY!!! You just need to know I will be doing it alright
This awkward thing comes up every time I'm sitting in a catholic church, and communion starts. I'm an atheist, but dad's and wife's families are very Catholic. I was the youngest of five kids who were raised catholic until they got to me: When I was five, my dad got so disgusted with the church that we stopped going, for good. I never took first communion.
My four siblings are all "agnostics" basically, but when they happen to be in church for social reasons, they go up and take communion. I don't, because I never did.
One of my aunts just died and we went to the memorial service, which was a full catholic mass. All my uncles and aunts, as well as my 30 cousins on my father's side, their own spouses and kids ... it seemed like ALL of them went up and took communion. My siblings did too.
But I stayed there on the pew, sitting while all 100-plus extended-family members around me filed up to the alter. I felt very conspicuous.
When you're an atheist in a catholic family, The communion ritual is the great public revealer and tester of the depths of your commitment to atheism.
Same when you're meeting your boyfriend's family for the first time at a Catholic wedding and you're the ONLY person in the place who doesn't approach and snack.
Dudes, free wine!
A truly welcoming church would hand out untrasubstantiated wafers to the infidels.
A truly welcoming church would hand out VODKA TONICS. I mean, doesn't the quinine cure maleficence? Oh, right... malaria. So close, but yet so far.
mothers funeral = cracker eat
My mother turned against the Catholic religion after realizing she was tricked and driven mad by having 5 kids. We never heard a good thing about the church or those kids again. It was interesting then, when she was in hospice and the priest showed up to bless her she became VERY Catholic again and was quite rapt to the process after being out of it for days. The combination of my "Irish mean" mother dying and a priest in her bedroom and the two of them praying together gutted me.
My dad is Catholic and my mom is Methodist, so they ended up taking my sister and I to a Methodist church every Sunday, and after that service, my dad would go to mass. On holidays my mom and sister and I would go to mass with my dad, but we wouldn't take communion at the Catholic church. I always felt very conspicuous and awkward, especially as a young kid.
A raging germaphobia helps with this.. I don't know which illusion I believe less, the whole body and blood thing, or the idea that a quick wipe of a cloth will rid that cup of the germs left by the previous 50 people in line. Makes me feel much better about sitting the whole thing out.
About 20 years ago I went to a Catholic Church with a close friend. I was not a believer but back then I probably would have called myself an agnostic. I took communion because I did not know that I was not supposed to in a Catholic Church ( not being Catholic ) and my friend did not stop me. He told me after I had sat down that it was not allowed for a non-Catholic to take communion and that you had to have done a Confession.
I chuckled at the notion that the creator of the universe would have so many rules to govern how one could participate in the rituals of her worship.
Yes Hippity, but you miss out on that wafery, chewy goodness which will tide you over until the belly-buster breakfast after Mass.
Eww . . . Those wafers taste like ass. Although, I'll bet the big one the priest gets to mack on just before communion tastes of ambrosia and truffles (the chocolate kind).
What kind of fucking pagan baby eating churches did you guys go to? You're not supposed to chew them or they bleed in your mouth!!!!
I think spirituality is a choice you make, but to hide it, under the guise of privacy, is putting a lid on its expression in the world. The point of spirituality is to guide you as a human being in the world of normal affairs. A moral compass? So one possibility is that this person makes themselves known as an atheist or a yogi or martian or whatever, to their family and everyone else, so they make a difference in the world.
But it also sounds like this person isn't comfortable with how they express their prayer-like activity not because it's not called prayer, but because they feel the actions they are taking ("thinking of him") are themselves inadequate. It's a useful exercise for them (and me, also atheist!) to look at what we do at moments like this. We think about them between when we sip a coffee, just seconds before we update our Facebook status? Or we took an afternoon in a special quiet garden to reflect on their life? It seems that if you did something like the latter example you would certainly tell your relatives, and it could be a moving expression to them that you deeply love and care about them.
Here's the solution to the mystery: we are all together, all at once, always.
Gosh, everyone's thinking and sharing about this spirituality thing. All I wanted to say was that I read the phrase "Ultra-Reform Acoustic Guitar And Rainbow Kente Cloth Yarmulke Judaism" like three times in a row, and it's one of my favorite puttings-together of words I've encountered in a long time.
Temple Emanuel, baby! Where "Turn, Turn, Turn" figured prominently in the outdoor Shabbat service.
So many layers of charm, Ms. Gould. Your personality has proven to be quite a lasagna of fun.
When my mother was dying a few years ago, she too "found" religion, but having raised an atheist and agnostic (my brother and me, respectively), she was under no illusions that we'd join her on the proverbial road to Damascus, just that we'd support her choices to have a good and gentle death. I know it chafed on my brother's Star Trekky sensibilities to have to sit through clergy visits and the churchiness of her final wishes surrounding the funeral, but I think in it embiggened him to suck it up and make it the way she wanted, because it helped her. And ultimately, that's what's supposed to help us after she's gone... knowing that we did right by the woman that taught us to care about others before ourselves. To borrow an oft-used phrase, God is in the details, and she was able to fill those in for herself without us having to mouth along. The kindness of thoughts, words and deeds in a time like that is more important than the actual thoughts, words and deeds themselves.
[We now return to your regularly scheduled Hez.]
I face a similar dilemma. My father's family is aging. We have lost 4 of his brothers and sisters in the last 2 years. Last weekend I was up in Knoxville for the funeral of my favorite aunt. Yet, when they bowed their heads in prayer, I could not in good conscience do like wise. I simply refuse to bow my head to either the worst mass murderer in history or a fairy tale. What I found with my head up and looking around is that there were a few who did not participate either. The time was not appropriate to interrogate them about their beliefs so I do not know but I think we have a few more non-believers in the family then anyone has guessed.
You mean all this time I thought I was praying to my creator I've been praying to that Soviet dude in the 50s who offed all those kids? Wicked harsh, dude.
true story, which i'll totally post here now that this is a few days old and no one will read it.
my aunt died from breast cancer when i was 14 or something. i was still very much catholic at the time. at some point, maybe 6 or 7 months before she died, when the extended family, gram, gramps, aunts, uncles, and innumerable cousins, were at our annual trip to the lake cabin up north, we gathered for an impromptu prayer over jenny. everyone put a hand on her shoulder or head or whatever, except for me. i just stood awkwardly apart, hands folded in front of me. despite being religious, the thought of partaking in that made me really uncomfortable at the time. but i also felt awkward for standing apart.
what is the point of this story? i dunno. as an agnostic now, i totally recognize the above situation. i think it's possible to come up with a heartfelt note expressing your concern and support and love without resorting to lies about prayers that never existed. who knows? i can also see recipients feeling insulted by notes offering prayers from those who don't pray.
so i guess... while spirituality may be personal, religion is not. it is almost necessarily communal. so maybe when we're faced with religious ceremonies and observances and rituals in which we'd rather not participate, we should recognize the universal meaning represented in them and try to express that in our own way outside of the ceremony. religious rituals were constructed over time to deal with troubling, all-too-human events. as non-religious people, we just have to use our imagination, being unable to resort to centuries-old codes of conduct.
all of this is to say, i guess, that i should have said something to jenny after that laying-on-of-hands incident about how i was praying for her and thinking about her and caring for her and wishing her the best even though i didn't feel comfortable placing a hand on her shoulder when we prayed.