and her adventures in Atheism
Posts tagged family
How to Avoid Uncomfortable Conversations about Religion
Mar 11th
Ah the internet. Such a font of fantastic, novel, and often useless knowledge. One of my favorite sites to read for fun is WikiHow.com. The user-created content there is often worth reading if you need some simple advice on how to handle different situations.
Some of these wiki entries apply directly to secular folks like you and me. Do you have a friend who wants to ask you how your spiritual walk with god is going? Is your brother confronting you at an awkward time about your lack of church attendance? Do you just want to avoid debates on religion all together? Check out this bit of wisdom about how to handle acquaintances, family, or friends when they want to talk about spiritual matters:
How to Avoid Uncomfortable Conversations About Religion
Photo by hovering dog (flickr.com)
from wikiHow
There is a time and place for everything under the sun, including discussions about religion. Whether you are religious or not, if someone is trying to draw you into a conversation, or perhaps an argument, regarding religion or morality but the timing and situation is awkward and uncomfortable, this article will help you find a way to avoid a heated debate as politely as possible.
Steps
- Resist the urge to argue. It’s difficult to overlook a statement that seems completely ignorant and ungrounded, and you’ll likely have the urge to correct the person. Instead, smile and say “Interesting…”
- Meet it head on with honesty. Be true to yourself and your own feelings. Say “I’m not comfortable talking about that and I’m just not willing to have this conversation…”
- Redirect the conversation.
- Ask about their children, significant other, health, or job.
- Make an absurd joke to deflect the seriousness of the situation. For example, try: “Religion? No, I haven’t seen that movie.” Or: “Religion?! What . . . do you get that at, like, Wal-Mart or Starbucks or something?” Or: “No thanks. I haven’t been able to talk about religion since the last time the Cubs won the World Series.”
- Dead pan, “I am sorry. I have a firm rule to not discuss politics or religion with anyone I’ve not seen naked.” That usually ends the discussion rather abruptly, and on a light-hearted note.
- For people who are insistent on discussing religion, however, they’re likely to return to that topic quickly, so keep the conversation flowing at the level of small talk until you can do something else.
Am I An Angry Atheist?
Jan 24th
Photo by lintmachine
Because my dear mother is worried. She came to me tonight expressing a desire to talk about “the elephant in the room” which is, apparently, my atheism. In a very polite manner, she expressed her concern:
Ever since I came out to her in October, she has been reading more godless blogs (perhaps mine… rut roh!) and experiencing the snarky, jabbing, “haughty ridicule” (as she called it) that sometimes accompanies heathen venting sessions and social commentary. I freely acknowledge that some atheists are bitchy, chip-on-the-shoulder finger-pointers.
What worries her is that I might become like the people described above: sour in attitude, uncharitable in speech, and antagonistic in practice.
Should she be worried? Yes. I have to admit I am almost all of the above things at one time or another towards Christianity or woo in general. I consider myself an anti-theist and have no issues mocking certain ideas that are, in fact, ridiculous. Sometimes I make fun of other people because of their behavior, silly superstitions, or unbelievably ignorant beliefs.
I’m sorry Mother; I may be what you dislike… at least in part.
Even so, I want to make clear to the people of faith reading this blog that I empathize with you a great deal. I spent my entire life surrounded by the best kinds of Christians (with a few crazies thrown in). I know what it’s like to yearn after Jesus, follow the Spirit, trust in God, pray, see others come to the Lord, feel a mighty work in my life, and so forth. I know all of those things, and I honestly do understand where you’re coming from. I hope my knowledge of the Bible, theology, and the way passionate believers feel will make me a more ecumenically minded atheist (once I get past all the fun bitchitude). I hope I will soften more and stifle some of my most rude comments out of respect for people that are genuinely doing their humble best to follow what they believe and think is right and true.
But when it comes to the stubbornly ignorant, the bigoted, the anti-scientific, the hateful, the hellfire-and-brimstone theocratic blowhards… all bets are off–Godless Girl puts on the gloves.
When They Indoctrinate Their Children
Nov 12th
When someone you care about very much is training his or her children from birth to be the most closed-off, fundamentalist type of believers, how do you stay calm and butt-out as a relative or close friend? My sister-in-law posted a photo today of a beloved niece after going “doorknocking” (aka door-to-door evangelizing) with my brother. It sounds like sweet together time with her dad, and I’m sure it is fun for both of them… but taking a 3 year old out to evangelize strangers? It makes me sad, but I know I have to mind my manners and not say anything. They’re good parents and they’re doing what they think is best. Even if I think it’s ridiculous and indoctrinating their kids, it’s not really my business, right?
Any suggestions of gifts for young kids to encourage thinking and love for science and other brainy pursuits?
I’m Out!
Nov 1st
Photo by cbguille (flickr)
{See my previous post for backstory}
My mother and I decided to eat out last night. After our almost-discussion the day before, the elephant in the room was just too cumbersome. We needed to finish our talk, and I was finally–after over a year of evasion and privacy–ready to tell her.
When our hefty plates of stir fry were placed in front of us, she grinned. “I’m glad your roommate walked in last night.” I grabbed a chunk of meat and stuffed it into my mouth. “I knew that if we had said more, then I would have gone down the path of ‘Well what about this?’ and gone down the path of debate instead of doing what I wanted to do which was understand your journey and see what brought you to where you are today.” She clearly knew what I had to say, but wanted to let me vocalize it all.
I told my story.
. . . . .
My hand shook. I stared as it carried vibrating forkfuls of food towards my mouth–too quickly, I thought. I could barely swallow in time before having another bite to chew. I didn’t feel control over my own movements, so they happened anyway; I simply observed. The clichéd tremble amused me, and I chuckled to myself, which I’m sure came across as puzzling to my mother who sat across from me, leaning back from her empty plate as I continued to work at my food–barely touched.
The need to fill the silence between my mother and I was a desperate itch. I ached to scratch it, but I bit my food with vigor and stared at my stupid, shaking hand instead.
I had just told her I was an atheist. She’d listened to my story, and now she sat silenced, glossy-eyed, and buried beneath her thoughts. As I inhaled my food, I tried to imagine what she felt. Disappointment came to mind first. Probably a caring sort of pity, too. Perhaps she was praying. No, I knew she was praying. My mother always prayed. This is probably the first time she thought twice about praying aloud in front of me.
“I can see how it would be hard for you to deal with all of that alone,” she said.
No more silence.
. . . . .
After the big “moment of truth”, we started discussing various topics and thoughts: We talked about the Catholic church, masculinity and femininity, how she used to be an atheist, evidence for miracles, and that she doesn’t believe Christianity requires people to leave their reasoning skills behind.
Aside: You should know that my mother is one of the most thoughtful and faithful Christians of my acquaintance, and she’s also one of the most respectable, wonderful individuals I’ve ever known. When people talk about blind faith and dumb believers, they are not speaking about this woman.
At the end of our conversation, she mused, “This is astonishing…” I nodded, smiling. “You’re the girl who came home from camp in 7th grade and said, ‘Sorry Mom, I’m going to be a missionary.’”
“I know.”
“Astonishing…”
Who should I tell next?
Loading ...
