On Good Friday, 1973, my parents caught me smoking. It wasn’t the first time I’d been caught, but it was the last. This wasn’t because I quit immediately, per their demands. It was, rather, because I quickly grew fairly skilled at hiding my vice from them. Oh, they continued to harbor suspicions, but they never again caught me in the act. Anyway, it so happened that, like most good evangelical Christians, our family was scheduled to attend the annual Good Friday service that very evening. So, off to church we went.
I sat through the service and dreaded the coming altar call because I knew exactly what was going to happen. Sure enough, the pianist had barely begun playing the prayer chorus when my mother ambled over to where I was sitting with some friends and insisted that I accompany her to the altar. There, of course, I was compelled to repent of my sin, renounce my filthy habit and ask Jesus to forgive me. I mouthed the requisite syllables as tears of rage flowed down my cheeks.
I was enraged at being compelled to say a prayer that I did not mean and thereby label myself as a hypocrite. You see, when I was fourteen I was in what I now regard as a state of rebellious disobedience of God. I believed in God but had absolutely no desire to follow, obey, love or worship him. Therefore, my prayer was utterly insincere and, as I understood the matter then, both he and I knew I hadn’t meant a word of it. I believed that uttering an insincere prayer while in a state of believer’s rebellion was the height of hypocrisy.
Fast forward to late 2007-early 2008. The deacon and I had read stories of newly minted nonbelievers (sometimes called deconverts, a term the deacon despises) who had endured uncomfortable situations over the holidays when they were asked to say the blessing over a meal. 
We had also read some accounts of atheists who refused to pray with others who were ill or otherwise hurting simply to comfort them. Naturally, we had a conversation about these dilemmas before drifting off to sleep one night. As we spoke, I reached what was, to me, a startling conclusion: in some situations, if I’m asked to pray over a meal, or to say a prayer at someone’s hospital bed or some other circumstance in which prayers are perfunctory rituals, I’ll likely just go ahead and do it. I won’t offer to do it, but, if asked, I may not automatically refuse either, although I’d prefer not to do it. The reason is this:
Unlike my fourteen-year-old self who believed that her insincere prayer had gravely offended a god, my adult, atheistic self recognizes that all prayers are meaningless mumblings that simply drift away into thin air. They don’t harm or offend anyone of either the mortal or deistic kind. Therefore, my primary reasons for offering prayers of any sort would be to a) ease the discomfort of another who would regard the prayer as an act of kindness, or b) fulfill a ritual that, while meaningless to me, is important to someone in my presence. My disbelief will not render my prayers any less effective in procuring divine intervention than the prayers of believers; all of our prayers will go unheeded and unanswered. On the other hand, if someone is ill and will be comforted by a few words uttered at the bedside, my prayer may provide psychological and emotional comfort to that person. My primary purpose in visiting, after all, should be to support and comfort the one who is ill in any way possible.
And yet …. there are two reasons why I’m not entirely comfortable with this position, and hope that it will be a transitional stance that I will one day discard completely. First, I’d rather not say or do anything that will strengthen someone’s faith in a non-existent deity. Second, I’d rather not give others reason to suppose that I share their belief in said non-existent deity. I realize that, in acceding to their requests to pray with them, I will be doing both of those things. I don’t like this, but I can’t just abruptly sever ties that have accumulated over a lifetime, and, in many cases, over generations. Moreover, hospital rooms, family reunions, church pot lucks and other such settings are not good venues for launching into detailed explications of one’s rejection of religion.
Renouncing faith is an extraordinarily messy business. The intellectual break from faith, which many (including me) experience as disorienting and traumatic, is only a small part of a larger process. It is, in many ways, the easiest part. The social break from faith and faith bodies is much more difficult to achieve. It will happen for me. The deacon and I will gradually break away from our current obligations and have, in fact, already begun doing so. Eventually, most of our existing social and religious connections will be substantially weakened or totally dissolved. When that happens, we will be able to profess our unbelief more openly than we can now. Until then, I will live, somewhat uncomfortably (and yes, somewhat hypocritically and dishonestly), with my current atheology of the meaningless drivel called prayer.
– the chaplain
Posted by Laurie on May 11, 2008 at 6:14 pm
I’m SO glad I wasn’t brought up in a religious household. Before I started reading other atheist’s blogs, I never really realized how uncommon that is.
Posted by Grumpy on May 11, 2008 at 7:18 pm
Isn’t prayer a little like the cigarettes? Can’t you just say “No thanks – I’m trying to give it up”?
Posted by The Exterminator on May 11, 2008 at 8:42 pm
I’m kinda with deacon on the word “de-convert,” because it implies de-programming. Most of the new atheists I know have not been deprogrammed in the sense the word is usually used; they’ve arrived at their freedom from faith through philosophical struggles within themselves.
How about “self-enlightened”? It fits all atheists, but works best, I think, for those who are proudly and actively proclaiming their new status.
Posted by Evo on May 11, 2008 at 9:34 pm
I’m actually quite sympathetic to the position of continuing minor faith pledges for the sake of others. It doesn’t apply to me very much because I broke with faith so long ago and have been pretty outspoken about it. No one would ask me to bless the food! And if they did, I’d just smile and say “I don’t pray, but you’re welcome to”. My only suggestion to you, is to be self-critical. Ask, am I really doing this for the feelings of the other – or only because I’m afraid of the rejection I’ll receive? I think in the case of your elderly parents the answer is obviously that you are protecting them more than anything else. But other situations (particularly where you are not in danger of losing a job over it) you should really check yourself and try, little by little, to put the truth out there.
Posted by the chaplain on May 11, 2008 at 10:10 pm
Evo – your advice to check myself is noted and it’s something I’ll keep in mind.
You’ll probably recall that I have taken advantage of some opportunities to begin “put[ting] the truth out there.” The first person to whom I came out last summer, when I was a very freshly minted atheist, was my graduate school advisor, whom I had always known was an atheist. Obviously, she was safe, but one has to start somewhere. This was followed a few months later by my most difficult coming outs, which were to the deacon and my eldest son. You also may recall that, about two months ago, I had a long conversation with a Christian friend who is doing a lot of soul searching herself. We’ve been in touch via email since then and will be getting together for another discussion in a few weeks. I haven’t come completely clean with her yet, but she knows that I’m pushing the envelope farther than most other church friends she’s known. We’ll see what happens the next time we chat. Additionally, I’ve come out pretty openly with a lady at work with whom I eat lunch every day. So, in appropriate circumstances, I am trying to be honest with others about my state of nonbelief.
The most difficult circumstances, aside from our elderly parents, will involve our siblings. On the one hand, we’re flung so far and wide across the USA and Canada that we don’t see each other often enough to make a big deal of religion one way or the other. OTOH, some of them would feel compelled to try bringing us back to Jesus every time they saw us if they knew that we no longer believe. Who needs that? The best thing to do the few times we’re together (sometimes several years pass between visits) is to avoid talking about religion completely and, if they pray over dinner, just sit quietly while they pray. In contrast to religious believers, for whom god-belief is the center of their lives, lack of god-belief is only one small dimension of my life. I usually go about the vast majority of my daily business without thinking, let alone talking to anyone, about God at all. That being the case, there may never be any reason for my extended family to know anything about my lack of faith. Quite simply, it’s none of their business.
Posted by Spanish Inquisitor on May 11, 2008 at 10:12 pm
I have no problem with “de-convert” as a noun. It simply designates a person as someone who has reversed the process of conversion, which all theists have to go through (whether they realize it or not) since we’re all born atheists.
As a verb, it does have connotations of deprogramming, but whether the deprogramming is self directed, or from outside the person, it still works.
So, I guess I have no problem with the word either way.
Posted by Spanish Inquisitor on May 11, 2008 at 10:15 pm
My family, esp. on my wife’s side, knows not to ask me to pray over a meal. They know I’ll get a big smile on my face and say “Rub a dub dub, thanks for the grub. Yea god!”
Posted by Irreligiosity on May 11, 2008 at 10:25 pm
I was the only practicing Christian during my teen years in a household that didn’t go to church mainly through apathy rather than any spiritual conviction one way or the other. Of course “practicing” for me meant hanging out with a bunch of my friends and cute girls at youth group, and we had an extremely liberal live-and-let-live youth pastor who made it more about hanging out and less about repressive religion.
But I digress. As the only practicing Christian it usually fell to me to read passages regarding Jesus’ birth and resurrection from the four gospels at Christmas and Easter respectively. Other non-immediate religious family members always tagged me to do it for some reason. Thankfully when I went off to college that practice was slowly phased out. These days I don’t volunteer to do any readings or prayers, and no one asks. I don’t really talk about my lack of belief with the rest of the family because not knowing doesn’t hurt them. Knowing would cause a lot of undue worry, not to mention turning family gatherings into nonstop proselytizing marathons.
Posted by PhillyChief on May 11, 2008 at 10:45 pm
Don’t we always complain about christians’ hanging their hats on that old “ends justify the means” mentality? Well…
“my primary reasons for offering prayers of any sort would be to a) ease the discomfort of another who would regard the prayer as an act of kindness, or b) fulfill a ritual that, while meaningless to me, is important to someone in my presence.”
Posted by Chris on May 11, 2008 at 11:59 pm
well said.
Posted by Lynet on May 12, 2008 at 4:45 am
As an atheist child, I always felt uncomfortable when people prayed. Partly, I think, that was because I felt like I was expected to join in. I’d drop my eyes, say silent, and wonder if it was hypocrisy to close my eyes as if I prayed too. I felt like I should be honest about not praying. Sometimes I’d close my eyes and listen to the prayer and add my own “if you exist”s — that felt quite honest.
For me, though, my own personal take on my atheism demands a certain level of honesty. I’m an atheist because I care about the truth; I like to be honest for the same reason. It’s not about making a statement or trying not to lead others astray. It’s just honesty, because I care about the truth.
None of this means you have to think the same way, of course.
Posted by athinkingman on May 12, 2008 at 5:52 am
I think “you just have to do what you have to do”. Very few people instantly become converted. They move over time and move too in the degree of comfort they feel in declaring that change. I suspect the latter move is partly to do with what you have mentioned – a change in feeling comfortable about a new sociology. The reverse process will also take time, but when you reach a different point in your journey you will know that you have reached somewhere different.
I went to a social gathering at the weekend with the church leadership team that I used to be part of. It was good fun for the most part (I hadn’t seen them for ages) and I managed to not engage in a debate with them (they all knew my views and I decided it wasn’t the time or the place and would have been pointless anyway). As we left, they promised to pray about my pending hospital procedure – at which point I winced a bit. They just laughed and said, “OK, you don’t believe, but we do, so we’ll pray anyway!” It felt kind of nice and sad at the same time, if that makes sense.
Posted by PhillyChief on May 12, 2008 at 8:24 am
You should have asked them if you believed in animal sacrifice would that slaughter a goat for you? I’m guessing not, so the prayer isn’t for you, it’s for them. If they cared more for you then themselves athinkingman, they wouldn’t pray for you if you didn’t want them too. They’d respect YOUR wishes and put them first, not their superstition.
Posted by The Exterminator on May 12, 2008 at 9:57 am
thinky:
I’m with Philly on this. If they want to pray for you, fine. But to announce to you that they’re going to do so is an act of aggression. And then when the procedure goes well, they’ll smugly say, “Well, you may not have wanted us to, but we did pray. And you can see that it helped.”
Posted by bullet on May 12, 2008 at 12:39 pm
“OTOH, some of them would feel compelled to try bringing us back to Jesus every time they saw us if they knew that we no longer believe. Who needs that?”
Everytime I see something like this, I’m so happy I grew up Louisiana Catholic. “You’re going to hell. Pass me the mirlitons, baby.” Plus, I can just go to confession, eat a little flesh, drink a little blood and I’m back in. I think my parents and most of their friends just think it’s a phase. In their minds, I will be forever 16. Not that they weren’t pissed. But it passed.
When I’m in the situation of listening to prayer, I just stand silently. Just like I do during the Pledge of Allegiance. No one’s ever asked me to lead the prayers. The blessings always fall to the youngest and the invocations to the oldest, so I’m safe in that regard. I should try to memorize the agnostic’s prayer, just in case.
Someone praying for me? If it’s someone who knows me and is worried for me, I wouldn’t take offense. I know it’s genuine concern and that’s how they allay their worry and fear. Strangers I either ignore or say something like, “I won’t hold my breath,” or, “Yeah, good luck with that.”
Posted by the chaplain on May 12, 2008 at 9:54 pm
I knew this post would provoke a strong reaction from some folks but I decided to put it out there anyway. In keeping with his brief comment above, Phillychief took me to task for rationalizing what he views as “ends justify the means” thinking.
When one looks at the big, broad picture, the points Phillychief made in his post are worth noting. Every time someone goes along to get along, we perpetuate an archaic, oppressive system. But I don’t live in the big, broad picture. I live in a small picture inhabited by real people with whom I have real relationships. I’m trying to devise ways to be true to my newly emerging self and still maintain relationships that have been partially built upon premises that no longer exist.
Even though I value truth greatly (I would never have deconverted if truth didn’t mean a helluva lot to me; it would have been much easier to hold onto even a shallow faith than to walk away from it completely), I also value human connections. The vast majority of my human connections hold fairly conservative theistic worldviews, a worldview I once shared. Since I’m the one who’s changing the parameters of the relationship, I’m the one who bears the responsibility for negotiating those changes as smoothly as possible. I’m the one who will have to decide how and when, if ever, I come out to the people I care about – one person at a time.
For those who can’t quite comprehend the relational dilemmas that atheists embedded in theistic families face, I suggest that you try a thought experiment. Imagine that the person closest to you decided, after much thought and examination, to convert to a theistic religion. How easy would it be for that person to come out to you? How easily would you accept that significant change in your loved one’s outlook on life? Would you accept the change without question, or would you try to open some dialogs about the matter? Would you discuss the issue once and then let it lie, or would you want to revisit the issue? If you wanted to talk about it, would your loved one perceive your continued discussions as dialog or harassment? Is there a point at which the dialogs would cross the line from discussion to nagging? These are the relational dynamics that atheists in theistic families have to wrestle with. Is coming out as an atheist to those people worth the relational stresses that would follow? Sometimes it may be, and other times it won’t. Those decisions depend entirely upon the individuals involved and the depth of the religious convictions held by one’s family. Many times, those things cannot be evaluated accurately by observers.
In closing, let me shift away from the immediate issue of atheism vs. theism and draw some analogies. Those of us who are not gay are well advised to refrain from judging gays who choose, for whatever reasons, to remain in their closets rather than march in Gay Pride Parades. Those of us who have never been pulled over for Driving While Black, or had people cross the street to avoid looking in our eyes, will never understand what racism feels like. There are points at which we who have never lived through particular circumstances can only have, at best, theoretical understandings of them. We will never know what it’s like to live and feel those lives.
Philly and those who agree with him are entitled to your opinions, of course, and I admire the passion and commitment that lie behind them. This is simply one area in which I will have to disagree with your prescription and make my own way forward.
Posted by The Exterminator on May 13, 2008 at 12:50 am
chappy:
Since I’m the one who’s changing the parameters of the relationship, I’m the one who bears the responsibility for negotiating those changes as smoothly as possible.
I don’t agree with the implication in your phraseology. You’re not “changing the parameters of the relationship” through something that you’ve purposefully done. No, you’ve merely changed your way of thinking; your mind, after all, is your own. So you don’t bear any “responsibility” for “negotiating” those changes; there’s no guilt or responsibility involved. I don’t think you need, necessarily, to make an issue of your atheism; but I certainly don’t think you should hide it in an effort to placate those who would deny your natural right to think for yourself. By coming out you wouldn’t be asking your loved ones to choose between you and their god; you’d merely be asking them to accept that you — as one of their loved ones — have thought an issue through to a different conclusion than they have.
Love, after all, is a two-way street.
Posted by plonkee @ the religious atheist on May 13, 2008 at 3:40 pm
@The Exterminator:
If only people were rational all the time, that might work. But they aren’t. Keeping a low profile might not be the best answer, but it’s not necessarily the worst either.
Posted by The Exterminator on May 13, 2008 at 3:57 pm
plonkee:
My comment had nothing to do with rationality; it had to do with family dynamics. I’m suggesting to chappy that she not allow her own insecurity about being loved unconditionally dictate her interchanges with friends and relatives. She’s imagining herself as a victim of emotional blackmail, and then using her very own fantasy to blackmail herself.
I don’t see chappy needing to do that. I think she’s a strong, self-sufficient woman. If she loves people despite their ridiculous religious ideas, she should have the courage to realize that they might similarly love her — despite any of her ideas that they find unacceptable. Yes, she may have to engage them in uncomfortable conversation, but that’s life. Families argue over all kinds of things: sports, politics, even whether a hamburger is seasoned properly. If her relatives and friends choose to hate rather than love, she should shrug her shoulders and move on. Life is too short to allow other people to attach strings to everything one thinks, says, and does.
Posted by PhillyChief on May 14, 2008 at 10:13 am
As I said on my blog Chaplain, you said yourself that you still care about these people, even after you no longer buy into many of their beliefs and views, so it sounds to me like you don’t bear the responsibilities for the negatives that may result from your outing, THEY do. If you can still love them yet they would stop loving you, it seems pretty clear to me who bears the responsibility. YOU would never force them to participate in your behaviors or exhibit acceptance of your views as conditions for your love and friendship, would you? I’m willing to bet you would find that rather repugnant, and quite an evil to lord over others in such a way, yet you seem quite content to excuse others for lording over you in that manner. Even worse, your willingness to do this sends out the message to all who witness that this master and slave mentality is quite normal and fine.
You’re right though, I can’t possibly understand. I can’t understand people making such demands upon me as the price for participation or continued participation in a relationship nor can I understand accepting that and going along with it. What I can understand is rationalizing the unseemly to obtain something that you want, and that’s what I see both in your original post and in your comment here Chaplain, and that’s classic ends justify the means thinking.
Posted by sabrina on May 14, 2008 at 3:46 pm
I’d like to add my two cents (well, its probably worth less than that). My family is not religious at all, due mostly to apathy as opposed to a rational philosophy; i.e. they’re lazy
But my boyfriend (who I live with) is quasi-Christian but his mom is super-duper Jesus freak Christian. The kind of Christian who goes to church and bible studies three or four times a week. She knows I’m an atheist, and that Seth doesn’t go to church, but she doesn’t say anything, her philosophy is its better to be loving than to push people away by being judgmental. When I’m at her house, they pray before meals (holding hands and everything), and I participate. I’ve never believed in God, so its just a quaint custom to me; sort of like taking off your shoes before entering a Buddhist’s home, making sure you keep your cheese out of an orthodox Jew’s meat section of the refrigerator, etc. It means something to her, something very important and sacred, and nothing to me; so it doesn’t hurt me to participate. I’m actually into different customs and traditions (this is kind of how I see Christianity, as an old antiquated tradition) and usually participate, be it Hindu, Buddhist, Jewish, Christian or whatever. One time I got to participate in an actual voo doo ceremony (no animals were harmed). When you put everything on the same level, its easier; how many people would participate in an aboriginal dance if you got the chance? In this country, Christianity is so oppressive and ubiquitous that you feel you have to protest at every opportunity, or else its like watching your rights erode, but while this is true in politics, I don’t think its true at a family dinner or at someones deathbed.
In the end, as long as its not advocating a political worldview, whats the harm in a little participation?
The best way to advocate for being an atheist, is being open and up front about it. Everyone knows I’m an atheist, I don’t hide it, but I don’t try to be divisive either. I think everyone should respect other customs and traditions (something Xians suck at). Of course, this respect ends once you bring your religion into the public arena, if you try to take away my rights, I’ll tear your little religion into shreds
Posted by PhillyChief on May 15, 2008 at 10:38 am
Two important distinctions for you Sabrina:
1. “She knows I’m an atheist…”
2. “Everyone knows I’m an atheist, I don’t hide it…”
Posted by Lynet on May 15, 2008 at 2:32 pm
It’s fair enough to hesitate, to take the middle ground while you adjust. Hypocrisy is a perfectly acceptable transitional position, after all!
I’m not trying to force you to act differently. In fact, I think it’s a sign of your strength that you can talk about these things with us atheists even though we’d all disagree with you. Hopefully you’ll find some ways of slowly adjusting and finding ways to be comfortable and truthful as time passes.
And you’re right, I’ve never been through what you’re going through, and I admire your courage in taking the steps you have. I don’t think you should have to make the transition all at once, and I’m certainly not going to try to dictate the place where you end up, either! Feel your way along. You seem to be doing remarkably well from what I can see.
Posted by Ordinary Girl on May 15, 2008 at 4:55 pm
I know exactly how you feel, Chappy. Even knowing that I might be able to handle the difficulty that arises from coming out, it’s still hard to verbalize my beliefs to my family. It’s an idea I am more used to now than I was a couple of years ago, but it still isn’t very comfortable.
I think it gets easier over time. You’ve made some tremendously big steps in the past few months and I don’t think you should feel bad for making other changes slowly. I think everyone who’s commented just wants the best for you. They want you to be happy and proud of being who you are. And I think you are. But it’s all still new and it’s difficult to change relationships overnight.
Posted by Pockets on May 15, 2008 at 5:02 pm
I’ve always thought of prayer as being none too unlike meditation, positive thinking, even yoga. For sure it is not perpetuated in this manner, but my particular discomfort with prayer is highly similar to my discomfort being in a room full of cenobites or people dropping hits of acid. It is my obvious misfit to the group that single’s me out and causes the discomfort, not the practice itself. As such, group prayer, public prayer is distasteful in the same way that visiting a nudist colony in my clothes might be. However, I try very hard not to discount the individual practice of these rites as similarly suspect to their group applications. While I do not partake in them all, I will not discount what any one individual gleans from living nude, or living green, or meditating. I will not rip asunder what an individual champions in their experimentation with drugs or their attempt at positive thinking. Homeopathy, chiropractics, stretching, a morning jog, planned daydreaming, acupuncture, dietary cleanses, chess puzzles, crosswords, morning routines, taking a class, building a model…there are all sorts of ways to focus the individual mind and uncountable rewards to personal health which might be achieved in the doing. So, while I agree that prayer should not be forced through peer pressure, when it comes to praying as an individual, an inward search, logically I think I’d be more of a hypocrite NOT to place prayer on this list than if I prayed when I’d no intention of “speaking to God.”