My mother, though rather socialist in her political views, likes to watch FOX News. I cannot understand why, but I think she likes the opportunity to save on her heating bill via having her blood regularly boiled. At any rate, she sent me a link to a recent Talking Points w/Bill O'Reilly "memo" where he celebrated the recent "big wins" the Christian right has gained in the "War on Christmas." One of the examples included Macy's re-introduction of the word "Christmas" to their television campaign. He then showed the commercial, which has been airing non-stop in many variations since Thanksgiving.
For those who haven't seen it, the full version of the commercial features virtuous Christian images like gorgeous, scantily clad female models bumping their asses together, while other female models in short shorts stroll around on roller skates, and yet another specimen of flawless perfection jumps up and down baring her abs. My favorite vignette, however, is the pretty boy model "smoking" a giant peppermint stick candy. The copy on screen during that bit is "*yum" - it doesn't take a Freudian to find the innuendo here. Or maybe I just have a dirty mind. The music they are shimmying to is "The Man with the Bag", a jazzy little number I've always enjoyed as an essentially secular Christmas song. In fact, several of the female artists who've recorded it have done so with an awful lot of "flirt" in their voices, and the chick singing Macy's version is no exception. The song makes no reference to god, though I suppose it does work the Santa as a god-like figure allegorical device:
He'll be here
With the answer to the prayers
That you made through the year
You'll get yours
If you've done everything you should extra special good
All the same, Santa is not to be confused with god or the Christ child, and so praying to (or worshipping) Santa is akin to idolatry. Oh my... they're just an anagram away from chaos! (Just as an interesting aside, I seriously had a choir director at the fucked-up church I went to as a child tell the entire youth chorus that it was no coincidence that "Santa" was so close in name to "Satan" and we should be very careful with our letters to Santa because he wasn't God.)
So, let's get this straight... a "win" for the RR includes a commercial that equates Christmas with getting stuff, sexuality, smoking, the possibly subtle hint of oral sex and idolatry. Sounds like victory to me!
I giggle, just a little, every single time this commercial comes on... and now I like the song even more. If the RR keeps winning the war this way, I'll be a happy, happy atheist!
Addie
For those who haven't seen it, the full version of the commercial features virtuous Christian images like gorgeous, scantily clad female models bumping their asses together, while other female models in short shorts stroll around on roller skates, and yet another specimen of flawless perfection jumps up and down baring her abs. My favorite vignette, however, is the pretty boy model "smoking" a giant peppermint stick candy. The copy on screen during that bit is "*yum" - it doesn't take a Freudian to find the innuendo here. Or maybe I just have a dirty mind. The music they are shimmying to is "The Man with the Bag", a jazzy little number I've always enjoyed as an essentially secular Christmas song. In fact, several of the female artists who've recorded it have done so with an awful lot of "flirt" in their voices, and the chick singing Macy's version is no exception. The song makes no reference to god, though I suppose it does work the Santa as a god-like figure allegorical device:
He'll be here
With the answer to the prayers
That you made through the year
You'll get yours
If you've done everything you should extra special good
All the same, Santa is not to be confused with god or the Christ child, and so praying to (or worshipping) Santa is akin to idolatry. Oh my... they're just an anagram away from chaos! (Just as an interesting aside, I seriously had a choir director at the fucked-up church I went to as a child tell the entire youth chorus that it was no coincidence that "Santa" was so close in name to "Satan" and we should be very careful with our letters to Santa because he wasn't God.)
So, let's get this straight... a "win" for the RR includes a commercial that equates Christmas with getting stuff, sexuality, smoking, the possibly subtle hint of oral sex and idolatry. Sounds like victory to me!
I giggle, just a little, every single time this commercial comes on... and now I like the song even more. If the RR keeps winning the war this way, I'll be a happy, happy atheist!
Addie
This is not really my story. This is the story of Alvin, a teenage victim of demonic possession. First, however, some background to flesh out the tale.
18 years ago, right around this time of year, when I was an impressionable eleven year-old, I was attending a "Christian" school. Not a Catholic school, mind you, but a non-denominational Christian Academy. There are some who might argue that all religion is cult-like, but I can assure you that this is not the case. This school was a cult. If you visit the Ex-Cult Resource Center website and familiarize yourself with the BITE model, this describes my experience to a T. Behavior control, Information control, Thought control and Emotional control were a part of my daily education. Our curriculum was a Christian one, biased against evolution and "secular" history. We were grouped into two grades, so though I was in sixth grade, I was learning on a fifth grade level - they taught to the level of the lower age group. By this time in 1987, I'd already decided to leave the school. I'll briefly explain why.
Several weeks prior to the event I want to share with you, I had been suspended. I was playing "future" games with my girlfriends, and naively used my notebook for these games. These games were typical of 11 and 12 year-old girls. Those "who am I going to marry?" sort of exercises in futility. Well, one girl, Anna, turned the game dirty. Half of the things she'd put into it, I didn't even understand. I'd never been kissed, let alone had sex, and I'd never heard of a blow job before her. It would be almost two years before I even found out what it was!
The day I was called into the principal's office, there had been a raid on the locker room (which was really a milk crate room). I wasn't the only student in trouble, but my notebook had not been found in there. No, it had been turned in by the parent of a student named Melanie. Melanie and I had been friends, and we had a falling out over something I cannot even remember. She may have saved my life the day she picked my notebook out of the garbage can and extracted her petty revenge. Odd, how that worked out.
I sat with the principal, crying. He demanded to know who'd been doing these "devil games" with me. I was scared, naive and never thought to refuse to tell. I did what any one of them would have... I told him everything he wanted to know. Especially when he pointed out the remains of yellow nail polish on my finger nails. He said, "What good Christian girl wears yellow nail polish?" I tearfully - and desperately - explained that I'd simply never bothered to take it off after "Family Fun Night" (aka Halloween, which we weren't allowed to celebrate). I dressed as an Egyptian - we could only dress as a character from our classes - and one the of the descriptions mentioned painting their nails yellow. It hardly made me evil...
There is a lot more to this story, but I'm trying to be as concise as possible, given the length of the story I've yet to tell. What's important to know is there were multiple suspensions that day, supposedly all stemming from my found notebook and the raid that ensued on the milk crate, er locker room. I was the catalyst for school wide dissension and chaos. In allowing my notebook to be used, I'd created a situation that threatened the unity so essential to the maintenance of the cultish atmosphere.
Enter Alvin, a sixteen year-old redheaded boy. He'd started school there not long before all of this went down - maybe two weeks. He was quiet, dressed very strangely (though he followed the strict dress code), and he was painfully shy. No one really liked to be around him. He seemed angry and made us uncomfortable.
Every morning, the upper grades, that is 5th through 12th, had chapel. We'd sing, have a Bible reading and hold hands and pray. It was the main method of emotional control - there was something very powerful about this ritual. This particular December morning in question, the principal informed us we'd have the chance to have our heads anointed with oil while a staff member prayed with us. Given the animosity I'd faced upon my return (my friends had all been questioned, but none had gotten into real trouble), I wasn't nearly as "in to" the whole process as I'd once been. I didn't want to go up. It weirded me out just a bit. My week of freedom meant I'd watched TV, listened to the radio... and I'd started to decide that maybe Tiffany's version of "I Think We're Alone Now" might not be a message from Satan after all. I'd only gone to this school because a summer move left me on the wrong side of a new town. The middle school was rough, and I was a small-town girl. Well, just weeks before the suspension, we'd moved again - this time to the "right" side of town. Suddenly, public school seemed like it might not be a bad idea after all. I'd planned to transfer after the holidays. No one liked me anymore anyway. Damn that stupid Melanie.
Back to the anointing. Remember Alvin? Well, based on what I've said about him, you can imagine our shock when he went up to be anointed. No one could believe it. Alvin, who'd spoken maybe three words in the month he'd been there, getting anointed? In front of the whole upper school???
Fortunately for Alvin, he went to Miss Talia, our Bible teacher. She spoke tongues, you see, and this was soon to become very necessary for Alvin's existence. We watched as he had his head anointed, as she spoke soft prayers to the boy... and suddenly, mere seconds into the process, Alvin's plump body began to tremble. He made a growling sound. I thought he was having a seizure, I recall. Then he began to slide to the floor. Miss T, gotta give her credit... she never let him break the connection between them, but crumpled to the floor beside him, her hand still on his head as she prayed in languages we'd never heard. Alvin writhed, his eyes rolled far back in their sockets. He began to loudly groan, and a stream of an ancient-sounding language flowed from his drooling mouth. His body continued to shake and shudder, as the staff hurried to clear us out of the room, and someone shouted to "call the pastors", referring to the two pastors who frequently visited us and were allowing us to use their church for our Christmas production.
We were taken across the hall, to another classroom. Students were crying, and the teachers were concerned and worried. Someone, I think the vice principal, eventually told us that Alvin was experiencing a demonic possession. We were invited to join staff members and students in prayer in the room while the pastors and Miss T went about casting out the demons. I was two months shy of 12, and though I completely and utterly believed Alvin was possessed, I also could not resist "praying" as a means to see what was happening. I'm fairly sure the staff was banking on that being the case for the students who chose to go into the room - most, however, did not. They were too terrified. I believe there was some sense that maybe the demons would look for a new "host" after they were tossed out of poor, awkward Alvin.
The process took hours. I witnessed probably 90 minutes of it total. It was this day that I learned of Melanie's sin. She tearfully confessed to me, and I tearfully forgave her, believing she'd wanted only to help save my soul, as she claimed. All of my friends forgave me that day. Oddly enough, everyone forgave everyone... the tension that had been threatening to shatter the foundations of the school all melted away. Nothing seemed as "big" as Alvin's traumatic ordeal. Most students made peace before he was even "free" from his captors.
At the end of the day, a weary, but demon-free Alvin went home, presumably with his parents, who oddly enough weren't ever called to be informed of the exorcism being performed or didn't care enough about it to come witness the event. Once Alvin was sent home, an all school assembly was called. This included the younger children (1st through 4th grades) who'd not even been present at the time. I can't really remember all that was said, or how the situation was worded... but the word choices were careful, and the message clear - God was not to be fucked with. We should all kiss the ground we stood on and thank Him that we were free of demons, and that the problems we'd faced over the past few weeks were minor compared to what Alvin had endured - and what others were enduring everywhere... and that only through God could our lives have meaning, purpose, etc. We were invited to get on our knees, to thank the Lord for His gifts. I am not proud to say that I was one of the first to do so. I am not proud to say that I'd sat in the front row, desperate to prove the principal who'd been such a dick to me that I wasn't an evil, devil child, but a good, God loving girl.
Miraculously, Alvin seemed a new person the following week (this conveniently happened on a Friday, which gave us the weekend to ponder its meaning). He was chatty, happier... but still a bad dresser. I left the school, as planned. Though the impact of the event was profound, I couldn't help but want more of the freedom I'd tasted. Not to mention the influence of my family, who referred to my school as the "Holy Roller Academy" had begun to get through after the suspension. Really, in the end, I just couldn't forget the way I'd been treated by a man I revered. Even what happened to Alvin that cold December morning couldn't erase the memory. My friends, who'd shunned me, now begged me to stay... somehow, though still desperately faithful, I just couldn't.
I wasn't the only one... I found out through friends later that Alvin also transferred schools after the Christmas break. This always made me wonder if he'd been a plant all along. The staff had had my notebook for a while before they acted on it... and I have to imagine they knew the trouble they were about to cause would have a ripple effect. They'd need a way to fix the damage, to twist it around and make it work for them.
To this day I wonder... was Alvin, the sixteen year-old redheaded boy we found creepy, a mere pawn in their demented game? Or a willing participant, who helped turn us all into fawning legions of faithful. I'll never know, just as I'll never forget the emotional rush of that "miracle".
Addie
PS. Interestingly enough, long before I stopped believing in god, I had stopped believing the events witnessed that day were real.
18 years ago, right around this time of year, when I was an impressionable eleven year-old, I was attending a "Christian" school. Not a Catholic school, mind you, but a non-denominational Christian Academy. There are some who might argue that all religion is cult-like, but I can assure you that this is not the case. This school was a cult. If you visit the Ex-Cult Resource Center website and familiarize yourself with the BITE model, this describes my experience to a T. Behavior control, Information control, Thought control and Emotional control were a part of my daily education. Our curriculum was a Christian one, biased against evolution and "secular" history. We were grouped into two grades, so though I was in sixth grade, I was learning on a fifth grade level - they taught to the level of the lower age group. By this time in 1987, I'd already decided to leave the school. I'll briefly explain why.
Several weeks prior to the event I want to share with you, I had been suspended. I was playing "future" games with my girlfriends, and naively used my notebook for these games. These games were typical of 11 and 12 year-old girls. Those "who am I going to marry?" sort of exercises in futility. Well, one girl, Anna, turned the game dirty. Half of the things she'd put into it, I didn't even understand. I'd never been kissed, let alone had sex, and I'd never heard of a blow job before her. It would be almost two years before I even found out what it was!
The day I was called into the principal's office, there had been a raid on the locker room (which was really a milk crate room). I wasn't the only student in trouble, but my notebook had not been found in there. No, it had been turned in by the parent of a student named Melanie. Melanie and I had been friends, and we had a falling out over something I cannot even remember. She may have saved my life the day she picked my notebook out of the garbage can and extracted her petty revenge. Odd, how that worked out.
I sat with the principal, crying. He demanded to know who'd been doing these "devil games" with me. I was scared, naive and never thought to refuse to tell. I did what any one of them would have... I told him everything he wanted to know. Especially when he pointed out the remains of yellow nail polish on my finger nails. He said, "What good Christian girl wears yellow nail polish?" I tearfully - and desperately - explained that I'd simply never bothered to take it off after "Family Fun Night" (aka Halloween, which we weren't allowed to celebrate). I dressed as an Egyptian - we could only dress as a character from our classes - and one the of the descriptions mentioned painting their nails yellow. It hardly made me evil...
There is a lot more to this story, but I'm trying to be as concise as possible, given the length of the story I've yet to tell. What's important to know is there were multiple suspensions that day, supposedly all stemming from my found notebook and the raid that ensued on the milk crate, er locker room. I was the catalyst for school wide dissension and chaos. In allowing my notebook to be used, I'd created a situation that threatened the unity so essential to the maintenance of the cultish atmosphere.
Enter Alvin, a sixteen year-old redheaded boy. He'd started school there not long before all of this went down - maybe two weeks. He was quiet, dressed very strangely (though he followed the strict dress code), and he was painfully shy. No one really liked to be around him. He seemed angry and made us uncomfortable.
Every morning, the upper grades, that is 5th through 12th, had chapel. We'd sing, have a Bible reading and hold hands and pray. It was the main method of emotional control - there was something very powerful about this ritual. This particular December morning in question, the principal informed us we'd have the chance to have our heads anointed with oil while a staff member prayed with us. Given the animosity I'd faced upon my return (my friends had all been questioned, but none had gotten into real trouble), I wasn't nearly as "in to" the whole process as I'd once been. I didn't want to go up. It weirded me out just a bit. My week of freedom meant I'd watched TV, listened to the radio... and I'd started to decide that maybe Tiffany's version of "I Think We're Alone Now" might not be a message from Satan after all. I'd only gone to this school because a summer move left me on the wrong side of a new town. The middle school was rough, and I was a small-town girl. Well, just weeks before the suspension, we'd moved again - this time to the "right" side of town. Suddenly, public school seemed like it might not be a bad idea after all. I'd planned to transfer after the holidays. No one liked me anymore anyway. Damn that stupid Melanie.
Back to the anointing. Remember Alvin? Well, based on what I've said about him, you can imagine our shock when he went up to be anointed. No one could believe it. Alvin, who'd spoken maybe three words in the month he'd been there, getting anointed? In front of the whole upper school???
Fortunately for Alvin, he went to Miss Talia, our Bible teacher. She spoke tongues, you see, and this was soon to become very necessary for Alvin's existence. We watched as he had his head anointed, as she spoke soft prayers to the boy... and suddenly, mere seconds into the process, Alvin's plump body began to tremble. He made a growling sound. I thought he was having a seizure, I recall. Then he began to slide to the floor. Miss T, gotta give her credit... she never let him break the connection between them, but crumpled to the floor beside him, her hand still on his head as she prayed in languages we'd never heard. Alvin writhed, his eyes rolled far back in their sockets. He began to loudly groan, and a stream of an ancient-sounding language flowed from his drooling mouth. His body continued to shake and shudder, as the staff hurried to clear us out of the room, and someone shouted to "call the pastors", referring to the two pastors who frequently visited us and were allowing us to use their church for our Christmas production.
We were taken across the hall, to another classroom. Students were crying, and the teachers were concerned and worried. Someone, I think the vice principal, eventually told us that Alvin was experiencing a demonic possession. We were invited to join staff members and students in prayer in the room while the pastors and Miss T went about casting out the demons. I was two months shy of 12, and though I completely and utterly believed Alvin was possessed, I also could not resist "praying" as a means to see what was happening. I'm fairly sure the staff was banking on that being the case for the students who chose to go into the room - most, however, did not. They were too terrified. I believe there was some sense that maybe the demons would look for a new "host" after they were tossed out of poor, awkward Alvin.
The process took hours. I witnessed probably 90 minutes of it total. It was this day that I learned of Melanie's sin. She tearfully confessed to me, and I tearfully forgave her, believing she'd wanted only to help save my soul, as she claimed. All of my friends forgave me that day. Oddly enough, everyone forgave everyone... the tension that had been threatening to shatter the foundations of the school all melted away. Nothing seemed as "big" as Alvin's traumatic ordeal. Most students made peace before he was even "free" from his captors.
At the end of the day, a weary, but demon-free Alvin went home, presumably with his parents, who oddly enough weren't ever called to be informed of the exorcism being performed or didn't care enough about it to come witness the event. Once Alvin was sent home, an all school assembly was called. This included the younger children (1st through 4th grades) who'd not even been present at the time. I can't really remember all that was said, or how the situation was worded... but the word choices were careful, and the message clear - God was not to be fucked with. We should all kiss the ground we stood on and thank Him that we were free of demons, and that the problems we'd faced over the past few weeks were minor compared to what Alvin had endured - and what others were enduring everywhere... and that only through God could our lives have meaning, purpose, etc. We were invited to get on our knees, to thank the Lord for His gifts. I am not proud to say that I was one of the first to do so. I am not proud to say that I'd sat in the front row, desperate to prove the principal who'd been such a dick to me that I wasn't an evil, devil child, but a good, God loving girl.
Miraculously, Alvin seemed a new person the following week (this conveniently happened on a Friday, which gave us the weekend to ponder its meaning). He was chatty, happier... but still a bad dresser. I left the school, as planned. Though the impact of the event was profound, I couldn't help but want more of the freedom I'd tasted. Not to mention the influence of my family, who referred to my school as the "Holy Roller Academy" had begun to get through after the suspension. Really, in the end, I just couldn't forget the way I'd been treated by a man I revered. Even what happened to Alvin that cold December morning couldn't erase the memory. My friends, who'd shunned me, now begged me to stay... somehow, though still desperately faithful, I just couldn't.
I wasn't the only one... I found out through friends later that Alvin also transferred schools after the Christmas break. This always made me wonder if he'd been a plant all along. The staff had had my notebook for a while before they acted on it... and I have to imagine they knew the trouble they were about to cause would have a ripple effect. They'd need a way to fix the damage, to twist it around and make it work for them.
To this day I wonder... was Alvin, the sixteen year-old redheaded boy we found creepy, a mere pawn in their demented game? Or a willing participant, who helped turn us all into fawning legions of faithful. I'll never know, just as I'll never forget the emotional rush of that "miracle".
Addie
PS. Interestingly enough, long before I stopped believing in god, I had stopped believing the events witnessed that day were real.
This may seem a bit odd, but I love Christmas. I'm not ashamed to admit it, either. When I was a child, I believed in Santa Claus. I also believed in god. I don't happen to believe in either, anymore (though there's a part of me that still sorta wants to believe in Santa - I mean, really, how cool would that be???). So does that mean I'm required to give up Christmas? I say hell, no.
At first, when I realized I was an atheist, I had some difficulty swallowing my ongoing love of the holiday season. I mean, it doesn't hold any "meaning" for me anymore, right? Well, if that were true, it would be pointless to go on with my celebrations, but actually... it may hold more meaning now then it did when I believed in those childhood fairytales.
I have to confess, when I first gave up god, I missed church only once a year - at Christmas. The reality is, churches tend to be beautiful, and this is often especially true at Christmas. I love to sing, and always took part in Christmas plays and chorale productions put on by my then-church. It was a time when I, the lonely fat girl, took center stage and awed people. Hell, I even moved them to tears on a few occasions. That sort of power is heady for a teenager - especially one from a broken, dysfunctional family. Losing that wasn't easy to swallow at first... but I wouldn't want to proliferate the lie, so I had no real qualms about walking away from it all (and there are extenuating circumstances I'll go into another time).
So what does an atheist's Christmas look like? I suppose it's much like many Christmases. Growing up, I was the only practicing theist in my family. Christmas had absolutely nothing to do with god in my house... if not for my interjecting religion into the holiday, my childhood Christmases would've been, for all intents and purposes, completely secular. This is how my grownup Christmases are celebrated. I have the tree and the lights and the presents... all things that have little to do with the Christ part of the holiday anyway, and for me, it's a time of tradition, of family and love. We won't get into how my family isn't easily loved, but let's just say this was the one time of year, growing up, when I could be reasonably sure everyone would get along and be happy with each other. It was one of few sources of stability in my childhood, and I know that's part of why it's remained so important to me, despite my atheism.
There's more, however... Christians like to think they "own" the holiday. I've been hearing a lot about the "war against Christmas", and the irate reactions from Christians who don't like the "Happy Holidays" political correctness. I think it would serve those Christians well to recall that "their" holiday wasn't theirs to begin with. It was invented by Christians desperate to convert the pagans, who had various winter solstice celebrations across Europe. The Bible never states when Jesus was born, but most scholars that believe he actually lived (as I am wont to do), seem to think it was more likely he was born sometime between late September and early November.
Even the "trappings" of Christmas are not Christian in origin, aside from some created just for the " Real Story of Christmas". Take, for example, the Christmas tree. Greenery was often used in pagan celebrations, as a symbol of fertility and the promise of spring... but trees weren't used in Christmas celebrations until the 1500s, when the began to appear in Germany. This practice actually outraged some sects. In fact, the Puritans actually preached against Christmas, and when the (supposedly) first Christmas tree was introduced in America by an Ohio minister, he was actually threatened with physical harm. Even today, some fundamentalist sects don't celebrate Christmas at all and wouldn't dream of having a Christmas tree (like the Jehovah's Witnesses).
When I stop and consider the history of Christmas - the real story - I don't have any real problem with celebrating it as a an atheist. In fact, I sort of find it amusing. How many Christians, do you think, know the "real" real story? How many will still have Christmas trees, despite the fact that doing so makes them "heathens" in the eyes of "the Lord"?
I'm okay with being a heathen. I like my silver and gold decorations, and I don't have any problems fixing my freshly cut Fraser tree into its stand (well, except a bit of eco-guilt, but that's another story and I recycle the thing).
At the end of the day, it would seem the real problem isn't with an atheist celebrating Christmas... it would seem it lies with Christians behaving as heathens and participating in pagan acts. Many would be pissed off at my "secularization" of the "their" holiday, but I wonder... how many of them know the Christmas trees in their living rooms make them hypocrites?
Addie
At first, when I realized I was an atheist, I had some difficulty swallowing my ongoing love of the holiday season. I mean, it doesn't hold any "meaning" for me anymore, right? Well, if that were true, it would be pointless to go on with my celebrations, but actually... it may hold more meaning now then it did when I believed in those childhood fairytales.
I have to confess, when I first gave up god, I missed church only once a year - at Christmas. The reality is, churches tend to be beautiful, and this is often especially true at Christmas. I love to sing, and always took part in Christmas plays and chorale productions put on by my then-church. It was a time when I, the lonely fat girl, took center stage and awed people. Hell, I even moved them to tears on a few occasions. That sort of power is heady for a teenager - especially one from a broken, dysfunctional family. Losing that wasn't easy to swallow at first... but I wouldn't want to proliferate the lie, so I had no real qualms about walking away from it all (and there are extenuating circumstances I'll go into another time).
So what does an atheist's Christmas look like? I suppose it's much like many Christmases. Growing up, I was the only practicing theist in my family. Christmas had absolutely nothing to do with god in my house... if not for my interjecting religion into the holiday, my childhood Christmases would've been, for all intents and purposes, completely secular. This is how my grownup Christmases are celebrated. I have the tree and the lights and the presents... all things that have little to do with the Christ part of the holiday anyway, and for me, it's a time of tradition, of family and love. We won't get into how my family isn't easily loved, but let's just say this was the one time of year, growing up, when I could be reasonably sure everyone would get along and be happy with each other. It was one of few sources of stability in my childhood, and I know that's part of why it's remained so important to me, despite my atheism.
There's more, however... Christians like to think they "own" the holiday. I've been hearing a lot about the "war against Christmas", and the irate reactions from Christians who don't like the "Happy Holidays" political correctness. I think it would serve those Christians well to recall that "their" holiday wasn't theirs to begin with. It was invented by Christians desperate to convert the pagans, who had various winter solstice celebrations across Europe. The Bible never states when Jesus was born, but most scholars that believe he actually lived (as I am wont to do), seem to think it was more likely he was born sometime between late September and early November.
Even the "trappings" of Christmas are not Christian in origin, aside from some created just for the " Real Story of Christmas". Take, for example, the Christmas tree. Greenery was often used in pagan celebrations, as a symbol of fertility and the promise of spring... but trees weren't used in Christmas celebrations until the 1500s, when the began to appear in Germany. This practice actually outraged some sects. In fact, the Puritans actually preached against Christmas, and when the (supposedly) first Christmas tree was introduced in America by an Ohio minister, he was actually threatened with physical harm. Even today, some fundamentalist sects don't celebrate Christmas at all and wouldn't dream of having a Christmas tree (like the Jehovah's Witnesses).
When I stop and consider the history of Christmas - the real story - I don't have any real problem with celebrating it as a an atheist. In fact, I sort of find it amusing. How many Christians, do you think, know the "real" real story? How many will still have Christmas trees, despite the fact that doing so makes them "heathens" in the eyes of "the Lord"?
Jeremiah 10:2-4: "Thus saith the LORD, Learn not the way of the heathen, and be not dismayed at the signs of heaven; for the heathen are dismayed at them. For the customs of the people are vain: for one cutteth a tree out of the forest, the work of the hands of the workman, with the axe. They deck it with silver and with gold; they fasten it with nails and with hammers, that it move not."
I'm okay with being a heathen. I like my silver and gold decorations, and I don't have any problems fixing my freshly cut Fraser tree into its stand (well, except a bit of eco-guilt, but that's another story and I recycle the thing).
At the end of the day, it would seem the real problem isn't with an atheist celebrating Christmas... it would seem it lies with Christians behaving as heathens and participating in pagan acts. Many would be pissed off at my "secularization" of the "their" holiday, but I wonder... how many of them know the Christmas trees in their living rooms make them hypocrites?
Addie
In my intro post, I shared that the birth of this blog was precipitated by a forward sent to me by a friend. The text of said forward follows. It’s a bit long, but believe me… it’s worth reading through (if you haven’t already).
Paul Harvey says:
I don't believe in Santa Claus, but I'm not going to sue somebody for singing a Ho-Ho-Ho song in December. I don't agree with Darwin, but I didn't go out and hire a lawyer when my high school teacher taught his theory of evolution.
Life, liberty or your pursuit of happiness will not be endangered because someone says a 30-second prayer before a football game.
So what's the big deal?
It's not like somebody is up there reading the entire book of Acts. They're just talking to a God they believe in and asking him to grant safety to the players on the field and the fans going home from the game.
"But it's a Christian prayer," some will argue.
Yes, and this is the United States of America, a country founded on Christian principles According to our very own phone book, Christian churches outnumber all others better than 200-to-1. So what would you expect — somebody chanting Hare Krishna?
If I went to a football game in Jerusalem, I would expect to hear a Jewish prayer.
If I went to a soccer game in Baghdad, I would expect to hear a Muslim prayer.
If I went to a ping pong match in China, I would expect to hear someone pray to Buddha.
And I wouldn't be offended. It wouldn't bother me one bit.
When in Rome ...
"But what about the atheists?" is another argument.
What about them? Nobody is asking them to be baptized. We're not going to pass the collection plate. Just humor us for 30 seconds. If that's asking too much, bring a Walkman or a pair of ear plugs. Go to the bathroom. Visit the concession stand. Call your lawyer!
Unfortunately, one or two will make that call. One or two will tell thousands what they can and cannot do.
I don't think a short prayer at a football game is going to shake the world's foundations.
Christians are just sick and tired of turning the other cheek while our courts strip us of all our rights. Our parents and grandparents taught us to pray before eating; to pray before we go to sleep.
Our Bible tells us to pray without ceasing. Now a handful of people and their lawyers are telling us to cease praying.
God, help us. And if that last sentence offends you, well ... just sue me.
The silent majority has been silent too long. It's time we let that one or two who scream loud enough to be heard ... that the vast majority don't care what they want. It is time the majority rules! It's time we tell them, you don't have to pray; you don't have to say the pledge of allegiance; you don't have to believe in God or attend services that honor Him. That is your right, and we will honor your right. But by golly, you are no longer going to take our rights away. We are fighting back ... and we WILL WIN!
God bless us one and all ... especially those who denounce Him. God bless America, despite all her faults. She is still the greatest nation of all.
God bless our service men who are fighting to protect our right to pray and worship God.
May 2005 be the year the silent majority is heard and we put God back as the foundation of our families and institutions.
Keep looking up.
Email One: ...don't care who wrote it. It's a forward anyway.
Email Two: Do you seriously look up validation on everything you get forwarded to you? lol
Her responses really only served to piss me off even more. The second response is reference to the fact that I've sent her Snopes links on several occasions (not related to religion). I think her reply serves to illustrate the problems with theists. They don't need to find out truth. They just blindly believe, and if something claims to be something, well then it must be! Once I thought about it a bit, I wasn't nearly as angry... just sad for her that it doesn't matter to her to know the truth about the things she reads.
So, let's address the obvious problems. First of all, I know from personal experience that most Christians - especially those promoting prayer at public school football games - are NOT going to be nearly so open minded about hearing the prayers of other religions, even if they are in other countries. This is a minor point of contention, but worth mentioning nonetheless. A bigger problem is the never ending ranting of evangelicals who insist that America is a theocracy. It's not, and it's damn time someone made them realize this.
The argument of the country being found on "Christian principles" is one I'm not prepared to get into, but suffice it to say that I don't agree with that statement. I believe religious freedom was a founding principle - and that includes the freedom to be a non-believer without feeling like you're a second rate citizen. Which brings me to what bothered me most about this little "essay"... the blatant disregard for my rights as an atheist! Why the hell should I have to "go to the bathroom" because you suffer from some sort of theistic superiority complex?
I'm really tired of theists who sit there and whine about how their "rights" are being trampled just because some of us (including some theists) want to preserve what little separation of church and state this country has. I'm tired of being treated like I'm not an American because I don't believe in some father in sky.
I was born in America. I love this country, and I would hate to leave it... but I worry more and more that eventually I will have to leave or hide who I am. I worry about having to home school my children, lest they be subjected to an education system that allows for religious propaganda disguised as science. I worry that if they go to school, stand up and say, "I'm an atheist" they will be tormented, or worse, physically harmed. I love America, but if it becomes a true theocracy, I will leave.
As for my friend, I have hesitated to respond to her. I deleted the replies without comment. My husband and I are attending her daughter's first birthday party this weekend, and I really want to give her the benefit of the doubt. However, I know that I can't just let it slide all together. I could just point out that as an atheist I found that forward really offensive... but instead, I think I'll forward her the Open Letter about the Flying Spaghetti Monster. I'm not a Christian. I don't ever have to turn the other cheek, and I'm tired of doing so. I see this as a somewhat humorous way of slapping back.
Just as a side note, I've known her since we were two (and I'm closing in on 30). She's more family than friend, and that makes it a bit trickier to deal with this. If she were someone I didn't know so well, or for so long, I'd probably be a lot less... sensitive with my response to this forward. Given the circumstances, however, I'm going to tread lightly, while making my position clear. If that doesn't work, I'm prepared to rethink the whole situation. Hopefully, it won't come to that.
Addie
I am pleased to announce the arrival of my bouncing baby blog, Musings of a Liberathiest. The (hopefully) proud blogfather is I AM.
I began reading atheist blogs some time back, but at first I wasn't a regular reader, and until I began posting as addict_no_more, I mainly lurked. In fact, I still mainly lurk. So it may seem odd that I've decided to start a blog. However, I always have plenty to say... it's just that, in general, I feel others say it more eloquently than I will. So I leave them to it.
I've considered changing that for some time. What finally pushed me over the edge, however, was an email forward full of Christian propaganda sent by a friend who knows damn well I am an atheist. I fully plan to address said forward in my first actual post, which will follow soon. I will say that I do not believe the friend in question put any forethought into her forward. I believe she may even have me on a general forward list... but that's something I'll get into later.
I'm not exactly sure what sort of blog this will become. I can say that it will be more personal in nature than most of the atheist blogs I have visited - which is not to say I won't address *issues* - I will. I just suspect I am likely to tackle them from a more personal perspective. That said, let me explain the title.
Once upon a time, I was a devout theist. Eventually, I will share the entire sad story. For now, I will say that I believe I was as blinded by faith as someone can be. Eventually, I had a falling out with the church I attended, and that was the beginning of the end of my faith... but it still took some time and a good bit of introspection for me to realize I simply no longer believed.
To explain how that realization affected me would take an entire post, and even then I don't know that mere words are enough to convey the emotional evolution I lived through. What I do know is, the moment I realized I was an atheist - not an angry Christian or theist, but a true atheist - my life became my own again. I was liberated. It makes me think of the hymn we sang so often in church. Most of you probably know the lyrics, but here's a snippet:
When I used to sing that song, I desperately wanted to feel it. I never did... and when I no longer believed, suddenly it all became so clear. I'd been blind. I'd been lost, and scared and told what to think and how to behave. I'd listened to it all, absorbed it all and, most disturbingly, embraced it all. Suddenly, I was freed of that baggage, and life was more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. I was liberated by atheism, and hence, I am a Liberathiest.
Given that I was once an evangelical Christian, and now utterly and completely reject that former self, I believe I have some interesting insights to offer. Hopefully, I won't be the only one who feels that way!
Addie
I began reading atheist blogs some time back, but at first I wasn't a regular reader, and until I began posting as addict_no_more, I mainly lurked. In fact, I still mainly lurk. So it may seem odd that I've decided to start a blog. However, I always have plenty to say... it's just that, in general, I feel others say it more eloquently than I will. So I leave them to it.
I've considered changing that for some time. What finally pushed me over the edge, however, was an email forward full of Christian propaganda sent by a friend who knows damn well I am an atheist. I fully plan to address said forward in my first actual post, which will follow soon. I will say that I do not believe the friend in question put any forethought into her forward. I believe she may even have me on a general forward list... but that's something I'll get into later.
I'm not exactly sure what sort of blog this will become. I can say that it will be more personal in nature than most of the atheist blogs I have visited - which is not to say I won't address *issues* - I will. I just suspect I am likely to tackle them from a more personal perspective. That said, let me explain the title.
Once upon a time, I was a devout theist. Eventually, I will share the entire sad story. For now, I will say that I believe I was as blinded by faith as someone can be. Eventually, I had a falling out with the church I attended, and that was the beginning of the end of my faith... but it still took some time and a good bit of introspection for me to realize I simply no longer believed.
To explain how that realization affected me would take an entire post, and even then I don't know that mere words are enough to convey the emotional evolution I lived through. What I do know is, the moment I realized I was an atheist - not an angry Christian or theist, but a true atheist - my life became my own again. I was liberated. It makes me think of the hymn we sang so often in church. Most of you probably know the lyrics, but here's a snippet:
Amazing grace, how sweet the sound
that saved a wretch like me.
I once was lost, but now I'm found.
’Twas blind, but now I see.
'Twas grace that taught my heart to feel
and grace my fears relieved.
How precious did that grace appear
the hour I first believed.
When I used to sing that song, I desperately wanted to feel it. I never did... and when I no longer believed, suddenly it all became so clear. I'd been blind. I'd been lost, and scared and told what to think and how to behave. I'd listened to it all, absorbed it all and, most disturbingly, embraced it all. Suddenly, I was freed of that baggage, and life was more beautiful than I could ever have imagined. I was liberated by atheism, and hence, I am a Liberathiest.
Given that I was once an evangelical Christian, and now utterly and completely reject that former self, I believe I have some interesting insights to offer. Hopefully, I won't be the only one who feels that way!
Addie