Growing Up Religiously or A Slow Realisation of the Truth
I haven’t always been an atheist and I have been, what you might call ‘a Humanist’, for even less time than that.
As the title suggests, I sometimes think of it as my slow realisation of the truth, which sounds a little like some sort of Damascene Conversion — it certainly isn’t that because that’s not what Humanism, or atheism is about. There’s nothing special about Humanism, it’s just a set of philosophies from which you can pick and choose, with certain strong underlying themes, such as compassion and responsibility to yourself and everyone and everything around you.
I was raised a Methodist, in a strongly Methodist family. My parents had met in the church, my father was a ‘local preacher’, which meant that he took the services at Methodist churches in the towns and villages round Ipswich and my mother had run the Sunday School. All of that makes for a pretty religious household and back in the sixties, it made for some very dull Sundays. When I think of all the things that we were not allowed or able to do on Sundays, it seems as though we were still in the Victorian era. We were allowed to watch some television but we weren’t allowed to go out to play with our friends, not on a Sunday! None of that was enough to turn me away from religion, though.
Had it been twenty or more years earlier, drinking might have been a bit more of an issue. By the seventies, the attitude of many Methodists was a little more relaxed. In the past, it had been almost a condition of church membership that total abstinence was observed, by then it was more about individual choice, as long as it was in moderation.
Quite a few of my parents’ friends from the church drank alcohol and we always went to a particular family for New Year’s Eve; they were Scottish and held a big annual party where there was always a lot of drink on a poorly lit table. My brother and I soon discovered that gin is a clear colourless liquid and although it had a harsh taste, no-one knew that we were drinking it. I’ve never lost my fondness for that particular tipple.
By the time I was in my late teens, my parents tolerated me joining my friends in the pub and drinking at parties and discos, as long as I didn’t come home too drunk — quite difficult when you’re a teenager, at times. When I went to university, what my family didn’t know about, certainly couldn’t hurt them!
There are a lot of things that I have gained from religion. I always say, although not very often;
You can’t be a good atheist if you haven’t been a good Christian first.
I have a knowledge of the stories and myths on which Christianity is based that is greater than a lot of my contemporaries and certainly a lot more than most young people today. That may or may not be a huge advantage, although it enables me to chat to people who are involved in the church and show a little common ground, knowledge and shared experience. Knowing the history of the church makes it a lot easier to understand how religion has developed and changed in the world and in this country. It helps to understand why some people are religious and some are not, why the church still has such a hold on the politics and education of this country and why Richard Dawkins thinks that it is an evil that should be eradicated. It sometimes helps in pub quizzes too.
A particular skill that I find really valuable for delivering funerals, to say nothing of the years that I spent in the classroom, is that of speaking in large spaces. That isn’t a peculiarly Christian skill but it something I learned in my childhood. My brother and I were sometimes asked to deliver bible readings in church. For that, you need two things; to be able to read the arcane language of the bible and; to be able to speak clearly, loudly and expressively. Our mother was an excellent coach for this and we would be made to practise in the church, one of the largest in the town, without the benefit of microphones and amplification. We had to fill the space with our voices and work with the echo. The echo is the most important factor — if you can’t hear it, you’re not speaking loudly enough and, you must slow down, otherwise your words get lost in the echo. From the age of four, we had to do it. You don’t feel self-conscious at four and by the time you are older, you don’t notice. It has stood me in good stead in the classroom, at conferences, council meetings and now, taking funerals. Thanks mum!
The other thing about the non-conformist churches (principally Methodist, Baptist and United Reformed, as well as organisations like the Salvation Army) is that they have a big tradition of service to the church, service to the community and personal development. Religion is to be lived everyday, not just Sunday and there is a strong emphasis on being active and working, inside and outside it. My parents were active in the church as well as voluntary work outside it. They never stopped reading and learning. I have never thrown off that feeling of obligation and duty. It’s why I joined the Labour Party and worked within it to promote its socialist ideals that can benefit everyone, not just the fortunate few. It’s why I feel that working as a celebrant is important to the families I meet and work with. It’s probably why I find it hard to relax for very long and it’s why I always want to find out more — about anything and everything.
The one big danger of growing up in a religious family; I didn’t realise the truth about religion until I was in my twenties. I was caught up in the comfort and community of the church and when I dropped out of university, I was rudderless for a few years. Living at home, working in not particularly fulfilling jobs, I seriously considered going into the church and training as a minister. I liked the social work side of the job but now, I would have big problems with the theology. Thankfully, I didn’t take that course. Some might say the devil took me instead of God but I see it rather differently. I haven’t lost my faith, I have found atheism, slowly, step by step; A Slow Realisation of the Truth.
www.humanist.org.uk/marktaylor
