I try really hard not to hate religion.
It's like trying to hate the Girl Scouts. No matter how many times you shut the door in their preppy, hopeful faces, they'll just keep knocking on your door. Selling cookies.
Or guilt.
For the most part, I'm actually somewhat appreciative of religion. Being an atheist, I can't say I'm its biggest fan, but in some perspectives I'd even go so far as to say I'm grateful to it.
My mother is the best example for this. She's lived a hard life, pretty much from childhood on. She's endured unspeakable hardships at the intentional hands of others, and although she's worked incredibly hard to become as emotionally and mentally healthy as she is today, there are pieces of herself that I don't think she'll ever get back. If my mother didn't have religion, if she didn't believe that there was a forgiving God who loved her, and a heavenly eternity waiting for her at the end of this life, then she would lose all resolve to even get up in the morning.
What would be the point? Why endure the things she's endured? My mother needs to believe that there is a life after this one. That our existence here is not "wasted", and that in the end the good and righteous are rewarded and the wrong-doers are punished. She needs to know that all of her suffering will not have been for nothing.
No one likes to think about their parents dying, but in many (MANY) years when it's my mother's time, I am comforted knowing that she will go with the absolute certainty that she is passing from the love and warmth of her family into the love and warmth of God.
Just because I don't believe in heaven, doesn't mean that I don't hope beyond all reason that I'm wrong. If such a "place" exists, my mother deserves to be there.
So for the most part, I'd say I'm on fairly amicable terms with religion, at least as far as most atheists go. That said, out of all the issues I could be having with it (and yeah, I'd say there are a justifiable few) there's one in particular that I'm having real trouble with right now...
It keeps taking away my friends.
5th Grade: Sara. Abruptly stopped talking to me after your mother told you not to play with kids who weren't LDS.
8th Grade: Amber. After years of friendship, you didn't even have the decency to tell me you'd called the school and asked them to remove me as your locker partner for the coming semester. I found out months later, when school was nearly starting. I had had no idea that anything was wrong. The last gift you ever gave me right before you stopped talking to me was a Book of Mormon, where you had hand-written inside a note which urged me to save myself.
9th Grade: Christine. Suddenly stopped speaking to me. After finally tracking you down and asking what was up, you informed me that I was a bad influence on you, and that you didn't like how I was testing your faith. I was 15, I didn't even know I was capable of faith testing.
Clearly religion and I have a history of accidentally picking the same friends. Religion must have better perks than I do. I never know how to top that whole "promise of eternal salvation" thing. Things were better in high school, I found a friend who's only perspective on going to church was that it wasn't worth getting up on a Sunday morning. I even found a niche as the school's resident scandalous heathen. You know, the beloved kind, where others shake their heads and wag their fingers at your antics, but simply love what a character you are.
But I should have known this coincidental truce with religion would never last, except, like with all things, things are a bit more complicated when you're an adult. I have one dear friend who's leaving soon on a mission, and one that's just returned. The one who's returned is the only missionary I've ever tried to write. (All of my letters were sent back to me. That more than anything I've ever witnessed was possible proof that maybe God exists.) I attended his return party, and upon being surrounded by so many old acquaintances from high school, I found myself slipping easily back into my previous role as outrageous and scandalous life of the party. Back then, he used to laugh and joke along with me. Now he shakes his head and turns his gaze downward, as though he feels guilty for even listening to me. I've tried to ask him out to lunch, to catch up one-on-one like old times, but it's been days with no response. My old instincts are kicking in, and I'm starting to tell myself to stop hoping for one.
My other friend and I have drifted apart somewhat. Religion wasn't exactly what caused this, but I feel as though it's what's maintaining the distance. I feel like I have to watch my words around her, that I can only tell her about pieces of my life because the other sections will earn me only awkward body language and disapproving glances from her. This wouldn't be nearly so frustrated if not for the fact that I'm always willing to discuss religion/her mission with her. Even though I don't believe in it, I know that she truly does, and it's a huge part of who she is. I love all of her, and even though I don't share her views, I can admire her passionate testimony and desire to share it with others. It's just that I feel that this is entirely one-sided.
I don't understand why there can't be a compromise here? Even though we don't see eye-to-eye, isn't there a solution that allows us to still have a strong friendship? I'm so very tired of thinking of religion as this insurmountable wall between me and lasting relationships. It's like no matter far up I try to climb, they just keep adding more layers to the top. It's exhausting, and upsetting, and when I eventually lose the will to keep climbing, it's going to be a long, long way to fall....
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