Losing My Religion Or: How I Lied To My Mother About Being An Agnostic

A couple of months ago, while I was still living in Savannah finishing up my final semester at SCAD, my mother came to visit me. As we were driving around town, taking in the southern splendor that is Savannah, we drove past a church. My mother asked if that was a Catholic church. I said I thought so, but I wasn’t exactly sure.

She then continued questioning my knowledge about the other catholic churches in town. I told her that my knowledge of the churches in town was very scant at best. Slightly frustrated, she asked, “Well, what church do you go to?”

“Oh, shit,” I thought.

You see, I was raised Roman Catholic, and so while growing up, my family made it a habit to go to church every Sunday. I did the whole nine: baptism, reconciliation, confirmation – all the big sacraments excluding matrimony. When my parents divorced, and my mother couldn’t take me to church because she worked on Sundays, I started going to a Presbyterian church with Jeff and his parents, thus continuing my weekly dose of the Lord. [Read more]