Fear not the Christmas tree, for your methods of indoctrination are far more powerful than tinsel and colored lights.

Slate’s Dahlia Lithwick, in writing about the Jewish conundrum of how to handle Santa Claus and the Christmas tree with their impressionable children, writes:

One needn't be virulently anti-Christmas to experience the seasonal anxiety felt by parents who want their children to enjoy the winter holidays while avoiding religious indoctrination.

I find this statement terribly flawed. Rather than be concerned about “avoiding religious indoctrination,” I think Lithwick would've been more more accurate had she written about her desire "to avoid the unraveling of the purposeful religious indoctrination that she has already begun with her children."

Does she really think that Christmas trees and stockings hung by the fireplace are anymore indoctrinating than the average parent, Jewish or otherwise, who imposes his or her religious beliefs on their child’s unformed mind?

Lithwich does not want to avoid religious indoctrination. She wants to avoid the wrong kind of religious indoctrination, which comes down to the kind that she does not prefer, which in reality is the kind of indoctrination that her parents’ parents’ parents’ parents did not prefer.

Religious people don't fear religious indoctrination. They fear the challenges to that indoctrination.

Christmas trees and Santa Claus are not the the determiners of religion, nor will they sway a properly indoctrinated child. For most people, religion is passed on like a gene, determined long before the current or recent generations were ever born and influenced primarily by geography.

Consider this:

Almost all of the Christians and Jews born in America would be Muslim had they been born into a family residing in Syria. Almost without exception.

In fact, it's very possible that they would hate Christians and Jews.

Regardless of one’s transcendent belief in Jesus or the words of the Torah, Christians and Jews would be worshiping Mohammad had they been born somewhere else, as much as they may not want to admit it.

Geography and genetics, for most people, are the primary determiners of religious belief.

Lithwick has little to fear from a fat man in a red suit. It may make Judaism seem a little boring and bereft of magical creatures, but I don't think any Jew converted to Christianity just for the tree and the fat guy in the sleigh.

Fellow Slate contributor Mark Oppenheimer weighed in on the subject by writing:

“I'm not saying that a Christmas tree always represents some effort at assimilation. I am saying that the sooner a Jew learns to think it's terrific that she has her own traditions—even if they are flawed traditions, or aesthetically inferior, or hard to explain, or meaningless, or, like "the Hanukkah Bush," just a weird urban legend—the sooner she can shed the big roller-suitcase of baggage that a lot of Jews carry. That's possible to do with a Christmas tree in the house, but it's surely harder.”

Did Oppenheimer really claim that it is hard for a Jew to feel special when his traditions are inferior and pointless, especially when placed in the light of a kick-ass Christmas trees and the thoughts of eight rockin’ reindeer dragging a sled full of toys through the stratosphere?

I think he did.

It makes me wonder:

If your traditions are “flawed, aesthetically inferior, hard to explain, meaningless, or weird,” why not fix them? Improve them?

As much as people may reject the notion, tradition changes all the time.

For a people who’s worldwide population is close to zero percent (13 million out of a overall population of almost 7 billion), maybe it's time to make the religion more inviting to potential converts?

I have been working on a 12-point plan to improve Judaism for a long time.  In light of Litchwick and particularly Oppenheimer’s comments, it may be time to debut my list.

Even God can have a bad day

Regular readers of this blog will know that I can be critical of religion at times, especially when religious belief creeps into the public domain, threatens the separation of church and state, or results in harm to individuals or groups of people. But sometimes there is such a perfect storm of bad religious news that even I feel sorry for my religious friends, who are forced to endure the lunacy, hypocrisy and stupidity of their religious leaders.

Today was just such a day.

The perfect storm included:

1. News that Reverend Cedric Miller, who made national headlines last week when he told church members to delete their Facebook accounts lest they destroy their marriages by falling into temptation with former lovers, admitted to a three-way sexual affair with his wife and a male church assistant after a New Jersey newspaper reported the relationship.

Hypocrisy at its best.

2. News that Catholic leaders are attending a conference this weekend in order to deal with the sudden increase in requests from parishioners for exorcisms.

Yes, that’s right. Catholicism still makes room from demon possession.

“Not everyone who thinks they need an exorcism actually does need one,” said Bishop Thomas J. Paprocki of Springfield, IL, who organized the conference. “It’s only used in those cases where the Devil is involved in an extraordinary sort of way in terms of actually being in possession of the person.”

I have to think that my Catholic friends must cringe at the sight of a piece in the Times detailing the need for exorcism training in their Church.

3. But the most unfortunate piece of news came out of the Vatican today. The Pope has reportedly decided that condom use may be an acceptable means of preventing the spread of AIDS.

From Reuters:

In excerpts published in the Vatican newspaper on Saturday ahead of the book's publication next week, the pope cites the example of the use of condoms by prostitutes as "a first step toward moralization" even though condoms are "not really the way to deal with the evil of HIV infection."

While this change of policy is good news, how many millions of lives have been lost while Catholics waited for condoms to finally be condoned by their Church?

Kind of reminds me of the Church’s treatment of Galileo in 1633, except without all the dead bodies to show for it.

Oops. We were wrong. Sorry about that.

A tough day for my religious, and especially my Catholic, friends.

Do vegans force their pets and children to be vegans, too?

I find veganism fascinating, particularly when it is practiced for ethical reasons. The morality behind avoiding meat raises so many interesting questions. For example: Do ethical vegans force their pets into veganism as well?

Is a vegan’s dog not allowed to eat dog food containing rabbit, chicken or turkey?

Are the cats of vegans discouraged from hunting mice?

Is a boa constrictor owned by a vegan not fed rats?

Why might there be a distinction between the ethics of food when it comes to humans and pets? And is it ethical to alter an animal’s natural diet based upon your personal beliefs?

Also, is it ethical to impose your vegan beliefs on their children?

Should a person’s eating habits be defined by their parent’s sense of morality and their disregard for the presence of incisors in their child’s mouth?

I guess that if you believe that imposing religious beliefs on children is ethical, vegan beliefs could be viewed in a similar light. Yet there seems something less diabolical in a vegan stuffing green beans down their child’s throat than a parent stuffing the homophobic belief of a 2,000 year old desert-dwelling God into a child’s impressionable mind.

You’re not welcome

I spent last Saturday attending a bat mitzvah in New Jersey. It was a long drive and an early start, so we awoke early, plucked our daughter from the crib, changed her diaper and plopped her into her car seat, still wearing her pajamas.

Upon arriving to the temple three hours later, my wife and her sister brought our daughter, Clara, into the ladies room to change her into something more appropriate.

While waiting outside the restroom door, I removed my iPhone and began answering email.

A few moments later a woman approached me and said, “Cell phones are not allowed inside the temple. You need to turn that off now.”

Her tone and demeanor were less than polite.

“Oh, okay,” I said. “I’ll turn it off now.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“You’re not welcome.”

It’s a phrase I’ve used before in circumstance such as these.

She was already turning to walk away, so this unexpected comment spun her back in my direction. “Excuse me?”

“I’m willing to follow your rules since this is your place and not mine, but I don’t have to like it or pretend to like it.”

She stormed off, resuming her position as guardian of the lobby, shutting the doors to the temple and directing people where to go.

Immediately I regretted my decision. It was Shabbat, and though I am not Jewish, I understand the religious significance to the day, which forbids work of any kind, including many arcane rules pertaining to technology.

And yes, I find these rules ridiculous. For example, one such rule prohibits the extinguishing of fires, even when great property damage will result.

When it comes to the use of electricity, it is acceptable to leave the lights on all day, but the flipping of the switch to turn the lights on is prohibited, making this a ridiculous and environmentally damaging rule. Wikipedia explains it thusly:

This prohibition was commonly understood to disallow operating electrical switches. When actuating electromechanical switches that carry a live current, there is always the possibility that a small electric spark will be generated. This spark is classified as a kind of fire. However, as science became more advanced, and the properties of fire and electricity became better understood, this reasoning broke down: fire is a chemical reaction involving the release of energy; the flow of an electric current is a physical reaction. Therefore, some hold that the proper reason it is forbidden to complete electric circuits is because it involves construction or building, which is also prohibited on Shabbat.

I couldn’t help but wonder what the guardian of this lobby would do if I turned off the lights in the temple and then started a roaring barn fire in the middle of the lobby.

Would she be as adherent to her rules as she was to the cell phone rule?

But this was not why I responded with “You’re not welcome.” I answered her in this fashion because the woman was rude in the way that she responded, making a non-Jewish person like myself feel less than welcome in the temple.

And I immediately regretted saying it, because I don’t keep secrets from Elysha and knew that I would have to tell her about our exchange. I knew that she would be disappointed in my response.

As I was mulling over the best way to relate the story, while listening to my wife and sister-in-law attempt to coax my less-than-cooperative daughter into her outfit, a woman and her son approached the restrooms, stopping to speak to the same woman who demanded I stop using my cell phone.

“Excuse me,” the woman said, holding the hand of her toddler. “Should I take my son into the ladies room, or would it be better if I went into the men’s room with him?”

“You can take him into the ladies room,” she replied. “But please try not to be as loud as those women who are in there now. It’s completely inappropriate.”

Again, she was not polite. And she was talking about my wife behind her back, with no intention of addressing her complaint to her directly.

Instantly, all the regret I had washed away.

Perhaps this is how things always work. Every time I am brutally honest or rude to someone, perhaps I am simply operating under the guise of karma, balancing the score for some other poor person who had been or would soon be wronged by my target.

And I was not the only person who responded sharply to this woman.  A couple hours later (because anything done in a Jewish temple must take at least three hours to complete) a man entered the lobby and removed his cell phone from his pocket. The woman, still guarding the lobby, pounced once again, demanding that he put it away.

“I’m checking the time, lady,” he said, flashing her the screen that indicated the time. “You wear a watch. I carry this.”

As she turned to leave, I gave the man an approving nod.

Solidarity is a fine thing.

Assigning personal belief at birth

In light of a recent post on my loss of faith comes this intriguing quote from Richard Dawkins which I have a hard time imagining anyone disagreeing with on a sensible and logical level. 

Thoughts? 

“I feel very strongly that it’s wrong to label children with the opinions of their parents.

Nobody minds labeling a child an English child, or a French child, or a Dutch child. But you’d think I was mad if I started talking about a post-modernist child, or a Keynesian child, or a monetarist child, or a liberal child, or a conservative child.

And yet the whole of our society quite happily buys into the idea that you can talk about a Catholic child, or a Protestant child, or a Muslim child, or a Hindu child. That’s surely got to be wrong; to assume that a child will automatically inherit the opinions of its parents about the universe, the cosmos and morality. This must be something that should be rectified.”

Read that book at your own risk

I was speaking to a good and wise friend about religion and faith. Unknown to me, she was under the impression that I had been raised outside any formal or organized religious faith. When I corrected her, explaining that I was born a Catholic and later converted to Protestant Congregationalism with my mother’s approval, she was surprised. Actually, I was not born a Catholic. My parents conspired with the church in an attempt to indoctrinate me at a time when I was not capable of reason or choice by splashing me with water and declaring me a Christian.

The concept that someone can be born a Catholic, a Muslim, a Jew, or a Buddhist is a little silly. Right? You cannot be born with a belief system.

Surprised to hear my religious upbringing (I also lived with Born Again Christians for a year and attended church with them on a weekly basis), my friend asked about the cause for my loss of faith.

‘What caused you to stop believing?”

I can’t remember anyone ever asking me this question before, but I knew the answer almost immediately. After explaining that I am a reluctant atheist who desperately hopes that a kind, benevolent, slightly less-than-Biblical God and an afterlife exist, I answered.

“I read the Bible,” I said. “The more I read, the less I believed.”

In fact, I first started reading The Bible while sitting in the pews of that mother-approved Congregational church, and since those early days, I’ve read the book straight through three times.

Perhaps this is why so many churches do not provide parishioners with Bibles in the Pews, and temples do not make copies of the Torah available to their Jewish congregations. To read from the primary source document might lead to an uncomfortable level of questioning and doubt.

After all, to discover that God sent bears to kill 42 children who were cursing in the name of the Lord is enough to give anyone pause over their choice of religion.

Of course, the lack of Bibles and Torahs could just be a matter of funding, but I like the idea of conspiracies.

I've spoken to many former believers for whom this is the case. Reading that book cover to cover can be hazardous to your faith.

Most surprising, I meet very few people who have ever read The Bible or The Torah from cover to cover. Honestly, most of them are English majors who were required to read it in college.

While I understand that many believers would argue that The Bible is not supposed to be taken literally, I think that I'm too much of an English major to allow some of the material in the book to be considered the word of God and absolute doctrine while ignoring other parts or assuming that they are metaphorical.

It would be like saying that The Great Gatsby is a terrific book, but just pretend that chapter 14 didn't really happen. It was just a metaphor for other things wedged in between more relevant material.

I just can't do it. The inconsistencies alone killed me.

But I admire my friends of faith and am envious of their ability to believe. And I appreciate those who do not presume that my lack of faith is a personal failing or a sign of some fatal flaw.

I’d like to believe.  I’d like to find the solace in knowing that my mother is waiting to see me again, and that when I die, my soul will move on to a better place.

I just don’t buy it.

And I think we cal all agree that you can’t fake faith.

Not nice. And not Jewish.

I just finished Jennifer Weiner’s book Fly Away Home, which details the story of the wife of a philandering Senator and the impact that an affair like this can have on a family. Weiner says that the story was inspired by Elliot Spitzer’s resignation following revelations that he was employing a prostitute. At the time of Spitzer’s resignation, Bill Maher pointed out that both Spitzer and the prostitute who he hired are Jewish.

To paraphrase Maher:

At least Spitzer’s mother can rest easy knowing that her son chose a nice Jewish girl with whom to cheat on his wife.

The joke got a laugh, but it also illustrates one of the more unfortunate aspects of many organized religions:

The importance placed upon children marrying within the religion.

Growing up in a predominantly Catholic community, I can remember the importance that families placed upon marrying within the Church. Even at a young age, I can recall my bewilderment over a parent’s perceived right to help determine their child’s choice of spouse. Forcing an entire personal belief system upon a kid is bad enough, but to eliminate great swaths of potential husbands and wives because they believe in a different version of your Bible story seemed ridiculous at the time and still does.

What right does any parent have to determine their child’s future spouse?

More importantly, what is wrong with the son or daughter who allows this level of parental interference to take place?

Sadly, there probably isn’t a religion more well know for this belief system than Judaism (hence the effectiveness of Maher's joke). After announcing our engagement, I learned all about this expectation of my wife’s religion.

When Jewish friends and acquaintances of my soon-to-be-wife heard about our pending nuptials, one of the first questions they would ask her was “What’s his last name?”

According to Elysha, this is code for “Is he Jewish?”

Some actually asked Elysha if I was “a nice Jewish boy” and my in-laws were told by more than one person that had Elysha been their daughter, they would have forbidden the marriage.

How does a parent forbid their 28-year old daughter from marrying anyone?  What would the parent do if the son or daughter goes through with the marriage? Disown the child? Stop buying birthday presents? Provide a lifetime of dirty looks?

Both parent and child must be truly pathetic in order for this to happen, yet it does quite often. I know of one Jewish man who fell in love with a non-Jew when he was in his mid-twenties. Though he wanted to marry the girl, his parents forbid the union, and as a result, the guy is now a 50-year old bachelor who has rarely dated since.

I hope his parents are happy.

And I give my wife a great deal of credit. Throughout her lifetime, she dated many non-Jewish men, spurning cultural and religious expectations in order to follow her heart and mind. Had she been more conforming, we would not be together, and our daughter, Clara, would not exist.

Also credit Elysha’s parents, who accepted me with open arms. While it might have been more convenient for them had Elysha married a Jewish man, they have always made me feel like a son.

A heathenish son, perhaps, but a son nonetheless.

As a result, they have a beautiful granddaughter as well, who they love with all their hearts, which is more than I can say for the fools who now have a 50 year-old bachelor son instead.

I just can’t decide who sickens me more:

The parents who forbid the marriage or the man who allows his parents to renounce his love for a woman who he wishes to marry.

I’ll call it a tie for now.

No such thing as a free breakfast

This morning I was in the McDonald’s drive-thru, waiting to purchase my Egg McMuffin and Diet Coke. When I arrived at the window, I was informed by the cashier that my meal had been paid for by the people in the van in front of me. The cashier then handed me a business card, informing me that the van’s occupants had instructed her to give it to me. The card is for the Greater Hartford Church of Christ in New Britain and invited me to “Join us on Sundays as we study God’s Word and his plans for abundant and fruitful lives.”

I don’t know what to think of this.

Should I be grateful to them for generously purchasing my meal?

Were their actions truly generous, or was this merely a recruiting campaign?

Does the Greater Hartford Church of Christ have a budget for this kind of recruitment?

If so, is this the best use of parishioner’s contributions?

I asked a friend about this, and she suggested that I simply appreciate the generosity, regardless of motive.

This seems to make perfect sense, except for this:

What if my benefactors had not been from the Greater Hartford Church of Christ?

What if they had been a Mormon fundamentalist sect promoting a polygamist center of study?

Or a cabal of Satan worshipers?

Or a group of Islamic fundamentalists?

Or leaders of an offshoot of Heaven’s Gate?

In these cases, you might not be as comfortable with this act of generosity and the attempt to recruit you to their cause. Yet each of these groups would be acting out of religious belief, just like members of the Greater Hartford Church of Christ.

And for an atheist, an agnostic, or any other non-religious person, does it make sense to distinguish one religion form another in terms of validity? Is there any difference between a religion that espouses transubstantiation and one whose members believe that God is riding on Halley’s Comet?

Both beliefs seem pretty ridiculous, though admittedly only one can get you killed.

In the words of a good friend upon exiting a church following the baptism of a friend’s child:

“When you don’t believe in God, all of these religions seem a little bit like cults. Don’t they?”

Perhaps not exactly cults, but I understood what he meant.

It’s easy to assume that your beliefs are sensible when they are yours, and it’s therefore also easy to assume that your beliefs are palatable to all, which was why I left the McDonald’s drive-thru feeling unsure about the act of generosity bestowed upon me.

Believers always welcome

A reader recently sent me an email explaining that she has not yet posted a comment on my blog even though she has wanted to many, many times because she wasn’t sure if I would welcome her presence and opinions here.  She is a devout Christian who spends much of her time thinking, reading and speaking about her spirituality, and knowing that I am not religious and am sometimes critical of the incongruity and discrimination that certain aspects of religion seem to promote, she feared that I would be less than pleased about her participation on the blog. I assured her that this could not be further from the truth.

When people ask about my religious belief, I tell them that I'm a reluctant atheist who would like to believe in a greater power but finds himself unable to do so. I'm a person who desperately wants there to be a benevolent God and a glorious heaven, but I simply haven't found the faith inside of my in order to believe this.

But this has not been the first time that someone has expressed a concern that I may be less than welcoming to people of faith, and each time it occurs, I find myself assuring the person that I am quite capable of being critical of an institution without feeling any animosity toward its members.

I have many, many religious people in my life, and they far outnumber the atheists, agnostics, secular humanists, and other non-believers who I know. In each case, I am exceedingly pleased to call these religious folk my friends.

My wife and most of her family are Jewish, and while much of their religion is more culturally-based than faith-based, Judaism is an important part of their lives.

For two years, I lived with a family of Jehovah Witnesses who were kind enough to take me in when I had no place to live. Out of respect for their beliefs, I attended services with them from time to time, and I loved them dearly. I have never met anyone more committed to religion than these people, yet we lived happily and peacefully under the same roof for a long time.

Clara’s godmother is a Protestant who is very active in her church. One of our closest friends is a devote Lutheran. On Christmas Eve, Elysha and I often attend midnight mass at one of these two people’s churches.

Another close friend and his wife are Christians who run a youth group at their church and attend services regularly. These services often interfere with his ability to play golf on Sunday, which is annoying, but that’s a different story.

My mother was Catholic, and I know that her faith brought her great comfort later in life.

And these are just a few examples.

At certain points of my life, I was also Catholic and Protestant. I was born a Catholic (as much as you can be born into a religion), and as a child, my mother sent me to CCD, as all good Catholic mothers are wont to do. But I returned home after my first CCD class renouncing Catholicism and refusing to return to the church.

For many reasons, Catholicism simply did not suit me.

In one of the most admirable parenting decisions of my mother’s life, she did not force her own religion upon me. She informed me that although I would not be forced to attend Catholic services or CCD, I would need to find a religion that I could accept. For weeks, she drove me to various churches in the area, allowing me to sit in on a variety of services, and I finally settled on a small, run-down Protestant Congregational church in my hometown. It lacked the ostentation and ritual of the Catholic Church. There were no stained glass windows, no burning incense and no padded kneeling bars. In lieu of wafers and wine, communion was given using grape juice and Wonder bread. The minister, a young and unassuming man, called all the children to the front of the church in the middle of services, sat down on the dusty wooden floor with us, and delivered a children’s sermon just for us, completely ignoring the adults in the room.

If I had to choose a church, this was the one for me.

I still was not pleased with having to attend church on Sunday or it’s on-again, off-again Sunday School (though Vacation Bible School, with its focus on athletics, wasn’t bad). Even at a young age, the seeds of my skepticism and propensity toward criticism had already taking root. But rather than requiring me to base my religious belief upon her own belief, my mother allowed me to find something that was closer and better aligned to what was in my heart.

A smart and unselfish Mom, if you ask me. Forcing a specific, religious belief upon your children seems crazy to me.

Hopefully this post makes my more religious readers feel a little more welcome to participate in the discussion. I may challenge the positions that religion takes from time to time, particularly when those positions infringe upon the rights of others or express bigotry or hypocrisy, but criticism and contempt are two entirely different things.  While I may be awash in criticism from time to time (and perhaps too often), I reserve my contempt for those who truly deserve it.

The New York Jets Militant vegetarians People who text while driving Morons who talk and text during movies Golfers who insist on playing from the blue tees when they clearly shouldn't s Anyone who wears pants with text scribbled across the butt

The Vatican is nothing if not consistent

It’s the lack of consistency that often annoys me when it comes to religious tradition and belief. It most often occurs with the strict adherence to certain lines of Scripture that conveniently validate one’s personal beliefs while ignoring other line of Scripture altogether.

Leviticus 18:22, for example, forbids homosexuality and is viewed as the infallible word of God to a large but thankfully shrinking number of religious zealots.

But just a few lines later, Leviticus 19:19, which prohibits clothing woven of two kinds of material and Leviticus 19:27, which prohibits the trimming of beards and the cutting of hair, are largely ignored by these same people for reasons that they are never able to fully explain.

See what I mean?

If you’re going to utilize religious doctrine as a means of rationalizing your bigotry towards homosexuals, you should at least be forbidden from donning cotton blends and be required to wear a full beard at all times.

In fact, I think this is a fair trade. You are only permitted to discriminate against my gay friends if you are also willing to renounce polyester and make every effort to resemble the members of ZZ Top.

All I ask is for a little consistency. All or nothing. Religion was not meant to be a buffet, particular when it comes to denying individuals certain rights and privileges based upon their sexual orientation.

Another case in point:

At the JCC swim club today, I was not allowed to purchase a cheeseburger for kosher reasons, but I was permitted to purchase a carton of milk and a hamburger, which is clearly in violation of kosher traditions.

See the problem?

The girl at the counter admitted that the snack bar was only “slightly kosher,” but if you’re going to adhere to a set of arcane dietary restrictions for the benefit of those members of the club who care about such things, at least be consistent. Follow the kosher guidelines or abandon them altogether, but please don’t muddle around in some bizarre middle ground. Keeping a semi-kosher snack bar will only serve to annoy cheeseburger-loving heathens like myself while simultaneously infuriating the kosher-kitchen dietary obsessives.

At least make one of us happy.

On a more serious, non-food-related note, the Vatican issued a decree this week that included a provision making the "attempted ordination" of women one of the “gravest crimes in ecclesiastical law.”

The change put the offense of ordaining women on a par with the sexual abuse of a minor, at least according to Catholic doctrine.

I cannot fathom why Catholic women are not picketing every church in America right now.

But unlike those buffet-style homophobes and the JCC swim club snack bars, at least the Vatican is consistent. Hundreds of years ago the Vatican took a stand against women’s rights, and damn it, they are not back down from it.  The Catholic Church does not believe that women are capable of holding leadership positions in the Church, nor should they be treated as equals to men, and they are sticking to their guns.

Give the Vatican some credit. At least it’s consistent.

Worst geographic decision ever

You know, if there is a God, he must have been in a rotten mood when he decided to place the origin of all three major monotheistic religions in an area the size of Rhode Island. Then, just for kicks, plop the majority of the oil reserves on the planet in the same region as well.

It would be funny if so many people hadn’t died as a result of the subsequent quarreling.

Keep it simple

As a practicing minimalist, I find most religions to be obscenely complicated. This is why I could never convert to Judaism, even if it’s my wife’s religion. Do you know how many laws the Jews have?

613.

This includes laws that forbid the borrowing on money with interest (no more credit cards or mortgages), as well as outlawing the mixing of cotton and linen.

These two laws alone make the religion utterly untenable, let alone the other 611, many of which are equally ridiculous.

The Christians are at least little more sensible. They only have ten rules, otherwise known as Commandments, but even these are a bit silly. The first four deal with God being the one and only deity and the fifth one demands that Christians to spend every Sunday worshiping him.

I am the Lord your God You shall have no other gods before me You shall not make for yourself an idol You shall not make wrongful use of the name of your God Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy

He may be an-all powerful being, but he's apparently a bit insecure. Half of the laws that he handed down to Moses pertain to assurances that he remains the one and only.

Yet there is no Commandment forbidding rape.

As you may know, I am an reluctant atheist, but I am also a minister of the Universal Life Church. Though these two things may sound incongruous, they actually function quite well in my church, considering its tenets.

Just two sentences:

Every person has the natural right to peacefully determine what is right.  We are advocates of religious freedom.

Simple, applicable, and most fitting for a non-believer. More importantly, there’s nothing forbidding me from wearing a cotton blend and attending a Patriots game on Sunday (two things strictly forbidden in Christian and Jewish law).

Not a bad deal, huh?

I guess I feel that if I’m going to affiliate myself in any way with a religious institution, I want to be able to follow all the rules handed down by its supreme being and not pick and choose the rules most convenient in the modern world.

I will pledge whatever my teacher says…

I’m just about finished reading THE BOOK THIEF, which provides a very interesting view of Nazi Germany from the perspective of a child.  Among other things, the book portrays a country that is fanatic in assuring its citizens support the German ideals and purpose at all times.  Children are indoctrinated into these beliefs through rituals and customs, an active re-packaging of a shared history, and through organizations like The Hitler Youth.  From all accounts, it was a highly effective means of assuring that the citizenry supported the Third Reich and all that it represented.  

It’s got me thinking about a subject in this country that I have always felt uncertain about:  The Pledge of Allegiance.

Specifically, I’ve grown more and more uncomfortable over the years with the process of asking school children to recite the pledge, for a number of reasons.

The first and most obvious problem with our pledge is the reference to God. Since the Constitution clearly establishes a divide between church and state and the government under Washington and Adams clearly asserted that the United States is not a Christian nation, the inclusion of the words under God, which were added in 1954 after a campaign by the Knight’s of Columbus (the world's largest Catholic fraternal service organization) brings religion into the public schools in such a way that I consider unconstitutional.

In 2002, a federal court agreed with me, only to have their decision overturned by the Supreme Court two years later.  Regardless of the Court’s decision, I think that asking children to recite these words in a public school is unconscionable, and I cannot imagine why it is permitted to continue.

In addition, asking elementary-aged children to pledge their allegiance to a nation, when their understanding of a pledge, the nation to which they are pledging their allegiance, and the implications of such a pledge, is limited at best, strikes me as a form of nationalistic indoctrination that is akin to the activities that took place in Nazi Germany. 

THE BOOK THIEF depicts a nation in which German children are required to raise their right hand and offer a Nazi salute whenever asked.  They are compelled to join Nazi Youth Brigades and memorize such pertinent information as Hitler’s birthday and important dates in German history.  They are eventually required to read MEIN KAMPF and are encouraged to be seen with the book in their hands.  Long before they have any understanding of the country in which they live, these children were indoctrinated into its ideals and purpose. 

Is the teaching of a pledge of allegiance to children much different?

Before these students are asked to pledge their allegiance to anything, shouldn’t they possess a solid understanding of it?  Why not wait until students have a couple years of US history and a class on US government under their belts before asking them to make this pledge?

Some may claim that the pledge is voluntary, and as a result, no student is ever forced to pledge his or her allegiance. But how many elementary school teachers are explaining the voluntary nature of the pledge or creating an environment in which seven-year olds feel comfortable remaining silent while their friends and teacher pledge their allegiance to their country?

And besides, the pledge is factually incorrect. It states that the United States is indivisible. But I seem to remember four years during the 1860’s when this nation was clearly divided, complete with separate capitols, currency, and Constitutions.

Yet we have our children pledging their allegiance to this factually incorrect, religiously-loaded form of nationalistic indoctrination in schools everyday, and everyday I grow more and more uncomfortable with it.

What is an elementary school teacher to do?

Pay to pray is shameful and disgusting. It needs to end.

A few years ago, in an episode of “Curb Your Enthusiasm,” the comedian Larry David bought scalpers’ tickets to his congregation’s High Holy Day services, and was kicked out when his subterfuge was discovered. It was extremely funny but only because of the biting truth behind the gag.

If you’re not aware, most Jewish temples require worshipers to purchase tickets for services during the High Holidays. In addition, most temples charge a substantial fee when a family joins their congregation.

Even worse, many synagogues do not sell tickets just for the holidays. They sell memberships, which include holiday tickets. What is a person to do if he or she does not want to join a synagogue, but wants to attend holiday services?

I find these requirements to be dreadful, shameful, and sacrilegious, and not surprisingly, I have yet to find a single person, Jewish or otherwise, who disagrees with me. Even Larry David finds these customs to be ridiculous, at least according to the opinions expressed on his show.

The argument has been made that the High Holidays elicit such a large turnout that tickets are required in order to guarantee a seat. Of course, this idea is ludicrous. First off, since when has any religious institution complained about having too many worshipers? And under this system, only those who can afford the tickets have access to the precious few seats available.

Sorry you tired, huddled masses yearning for the Lord on Passover. Space is limited and scarcity has always provided a means to profit. This is capitalism at work, damn it!

Secondly, if there was a genuine concern over the number of worshipers in attendance, for reasons of fire codes or structural limitations, reservations could be taken without requiring a monetary contribution.

While the practice of selling tickets was shocking to me when I was first told about it, what I find even more shocking it the apathy, indifference and unwillingness to affect change. I have yet to meet any Jewish person who disagrees with my opinion or these suggestions. In fact, most vehemently despise the purchasing these tickets and the paying for membership. Yet despite these strenuous objections, they continue to shell out the money year after year after year.

When I ask if anyone has ever attempted to buck the system, submit of formal complaint, or endeavor to institute change, the answer is always a resounding no.

I find this surprising, especially considering that the Jewish faith admirably encourages its members to question their faith when appropriate. If there is so much discontent over the need for tickets in order to attend a Passover or Rosh Hashanah service, why not refuse to pay? Boycott the service. Organize a petition drive. Rise up and be heard.

Either that or embrace the custom fully. Install automated ticketing machines in each temple, capable of accepting debit or credit cards. Sell popcorn and soda. Show previews for upcoming holidays. It sounds crazy, I know, but so does selling tickets to holiday services or charging membership fees as if temple is some kind of exclusive country club rather than a place of humble worship for anyone who wishes to attend.

Does anyone honestly believe that the Lord approves of charging worshipers on to attend his service in the same way that the NFL charges fans to watch their games?

This kind of pay-to-pray system is not limited to the Jewish faith. I have a friend who was not permitted to become a godfather to his friend’s newborn son until he resumed his monthly contributions to the church that he almost never attended.

I may not belong to any church or formal religion, but when you are ready to rise up and contest these shameful practice, let me know. Heathen or not, I’ll join, if only to help put an end to this nonsense.

Mass suicide is clearly insane, but the parting of the Red Sea lives in Crazy Town, too.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Heaven’s Gate. Remember the cult?

They were the people who believed that an alien spacecraft was following behind the Hale-Bopp comet, and that in order to catch a ride on board, they would need to shed their humanly containers. Thirty-nine members of Heaven’s Gate committed suicide in order to do this in 1997. I’ve been studying their history and have found it to be utterly fascinating.

At the time of the mass suicide, Americans were horrified at the scope of the tragedy and had difficulty understanding how anyone could believe that an alien spacecraft traveled the universe picking up souls. Essentially, people wondered how the hell anyone could believe this nonsense, and I remember thinking the same thing.

But lately I’ve been reconsidering my position. After all, is the belief that aliens are returning to the Earth in order to pick up souls any more difficult to believe than the belief that an omnipotent God who planted his only son into a virgin womb?

Is it any more improbable for this son of God to feed thousands of people on a single loaf of bread?

Or surviving crucifixion through resurrection?

When each religious belief is viewed objectively, outside of its tradition and trappings, one really doesn’t seem any more improbable than the other.

Of course, some may say that believing in Jesus, the parting of the Red Sea or Jewish dietary laws don’t require believers to take their on lives.

This is true, and I’d certainly be more likely to question a religious belief that requires believers to kill themselves over one one that requires three separate sets of flatware.

However, suicide is hardly something unknown to mainstream religion. The events that took place in Masada in 73 A.D., in which a Jewish sect committed suicide rather than falling to the hands of the brutal Romans, is actually cited on the Heaven’s Gate website. Is this really much different from people committing suicide in order to ascend to a higher state of being? Particularly when they believe that the body is a mere vessel for the soul?

And what about Abraham being asked to kill his son, Isaac? While the murder never took place, Abraham was prepared to murder his own son because God told him to, and this story is often told to Christians as a symbol of the faith that one must have in the Lord.

A father prepared to murder his son because an invisible being told him to do so? Is this any stranger or less brutal than the Heaven’s Gate tragedy?

It's still in the ballpark.

Here’s the thing:

The more I learn about the beliefs of various religions, the less religious I become. My wife is Jewish, so as I learned about her beliefs and traditions, I couldn’t help but think, “You guys just made all this stuff up, didn’t you? I mean, you can’t really expect me to believe any of this kosher stuff has any bearing on spirituality. Can you?”

But then I suddenly found myself thinking, “Wait a minute. Christians did the same thing, Didn’t they? All of their stuff is made up too! It’s all just a bunch of stories. And the rest of the religions are exactly the same. People are killing each other over their choice of fiction!”

Besides, religion is rarely a belief that is chosen after much reflection and introspection.  Instead, it is inherited and is highly dependent upon geography and the beliefs of parents.

At its core, religion is really is the passing down of improbable and impossible stories.

All this leads me to give the believers in Heaven’s Gate the benefit of the doubt. After all, if I don't believe that the people who believe in the Son of God or the parting of the Red Sea or Jewish dietary laws are a bunch of lunatics (and I do not), why shouldn’t Heaven's Gate get the same fair treatment?

Though I must admit that mass suicide causes me to doubt the Heaven’s Gate folks a little more than a woman who keeps a kosher kitchen or a man who tithes 10% because an ancient tome tells him to.

As a result, I find myself sincerely hoping that those 39 souls who took their lives in 1997 are somewhere in outer space right now, screaming “I told you so!” to the rest of us.

It seems like a Godly thing to do.

Beware of what?

What does the homeowner want me to believe?

Beware of God, because horrible crimes and atrocities are committed in his name (not to mention a number of atrocities committed by the Big Guy himself, if you are to believe the Bible, Torah, or Koran)

Or…

Beware of God, because if you fail to keep the Sabbath (one of his Ten Commandments), you will burn in Hell for eternity?

I find either option very disconcerting.

Forgive or else!

I drive by a billboard everyday that reads:

If you do not forgive others, God will not forgive you- Matthew 6:15

Does this strike anyone else as a gun-to-the-head kind of scenario? And is it even true? Though I am hardly an expert, I have always been under the impression that if a Christian asks  God for forgiveness, it shall be granted.

No strings attached.

Apparently not, at least according to this billboard.

What I find more surprising is the thought that this billboard, with its bullying tactics, might be well received by anyone, Christian or otherwise. If I was required to spend my church’s advertising budget on enormous billboards, positioned high above fast food restaurants in some ridiculous attempt to pass on the word of God onto people driving by at 35 miles per hour, I don’t think I would’ve chosen Matthew 6:15 as my slogan.

Perhaps instead a welcoming message of encouragement or inclusion. Words of hope and love.

These exist in the Bible. Right? Certainly not in Leviticus, the bigots favorite book of the Bible, but there must be a few words somewhere in the Bible that are capable of raising a person’s spirits.

I’m being facetious. Though I am not religious, I’ve actually read the Bible from cover to cover three times. I know that those passages exist, and depending on the chapter and verse, they exist in abundance.

Which leads me back to my original question:

Who the hell thought Matthew 6:15 was the right verse to paint across a billboard?  Every day that I drive by it, I become more and more angry at its finger wagging, ten-year-old playground tone.

I’m saved!

While my wife and I were serving brunch today, two Jehovah Witnesses knocked on our door.

I am grateful to the Jehovah Witnesses.  There was a time in my life when I was homeless, living in my car, and a family of Jehovah Witnesses took me into their home and gave me a room off their kitchen that I shared with a man who routinely spoke in tongues and a goat.

I know that sounds like something out of one of my books, but it’s true.

Despite their generosity and my genuine affection for anyone kind enough to offer a roof to someone in need, I enjoy tormenting Jehovah Witnesses whenever I can, simply because they are so difficult to anger or offend.  For years, I had a standing meeting with two Jehovah Witnesses in my old neighborhood, and over the years, we became genuine friends.  We would meet on Wednesday evenings for an hour, during which time they would try to save my soul while I tried my best to say outrageous things that would make their eyes bulge. 

My ex-wife thought I was crazy, but it was one of my favorite parts of the week. 

Today was no different.  After offering me some literature, inviting me to a prayer meeting, and assuring me that Jesus gave his life for mankind, I whispered, “Thank God you’re here.  I married a Jew and it’s like living with an absolute heathen.  Save me!”

Had I been a little nimbler on my feet, I would have also mentioned that our brunch guests were two gay men and their infant son.

Missed opportunity.  

Does this mean I can get into Heaven?

Today I was told by a man that although he knew that I did not believe in God, he still thought that I was a good Christian.

I’m not sure how that squares with his God, but it was certainly a nice thing to say.

Nothing’s impossible if your religion is based upon a miracles

I’m always amused when a God-fearing Christian woman informs me that she cannot get pregnant, as one did yesterday. Whether the woman is one hundred years old, celibate, or has undergone tubal ligation, the belief in the tenants of Christianity assumes the belief in miracles, and specifically in the belief that virginity does not preclude pregnancy.

After all, the entire religion is founded upon the principle that a virgin can become pregnant. It seems to me that a Christian woman should be the last person to be making assumptions about who can and cannot get pregnant.

Right?