How to Make an Atheist

This is a revised version of something I wrote in December 2002, explaining my atheism. Though throughout it I assert that I believed in God and Jesus, I don't mean this in the way a religious person would. This "belief" was never something I thought about, except as I mention below, or that influenced my actions.


Around this time of year, someone invariable asks me, “Does your family celebrate Christmas?” My usual answer is this: There is a tree, we get together, open presents, etc., but there is no mention of God or the Christ.

Then I tell them a story.

I used to sit next to my friend Kelly on the bus to elementary school. I was probably in third grade when she asked me what religion I was. I didn’t know; in fact, it had never occurred to me that I didn’t know. I’m not sure if I even knew that “religion” was a word that represented a multitude of beliefs. When I got home, I asked my mother what our religion was. She answered that we were Christians. I asked her what that meant. “It means that we believe in God and Jesus, and that Jesus was God’s son.” This answer meant little to me, as I didn’t know that there were people who didn’t believe that. Why would we need a name for that other than “religion”?
When I told Kelly on the bus the next day that I was a Christian, she revealed that she was Catholic. She explained that I was Catholic, because all Christians are Catholics. No, she realized, it was the other way around. Ok. I believed her.

That was all I learned about religion from my parents. I told my mother this story years ago, and she told me that even she didn’t believe it then, but you couldn’t live without acting like you did. So I was raised basically without religion, but believing that I had one. The rituals and dogma of religious were always something other people did that I never understood.


I learned about praying from my neighbor. She explained it this way: “If you tell God that you really, really love him, he’ll give you what you want.” This sounded a little implausible, but it didn’t cost me anything, so I gave it a try.

So, I believed in God and his son Jesus, and I prayed. At least for a little while. I never did get a pony, so I stopped praying pretty quickly.

One night, my parents friends were guests for dinner. I remember that when it was time for dessert, a conflict came up. There was some issue about me eating the pie she had brought. The controversy was this: if I didn’t eat the pie, I couldn’t attend her Sunday School. I don’t remember if I wanted to go to Sunday School or if I ate the pie, but I did go.

I don’t think I knew what Sunday school was when I made this deal. I remember being very confused in the class. After all, we were supposed to go to learn about religion, but everyone there seemed to know already what it was about. They could recognize paintings of Joseph, and they knew the parables, and other such things. I had no idea who Joseph was or what a parable was. So I was withdrawn from Sunday School. Probably because I didn’t like going. It was just confusing.

My Girl Scout troop met in a church. I think it was a Presbyterian (another word I don’t know how to spell), and I think the explanation for what that meant wad that Presbyterians aren’t Catholics. Once, one of the girls in my troop mentioned something about the difference in time it took to make the New Testament versus that it took to make the Old one. I had no idea what she was talking about. What were these Testaments? It seemed like she was talking a different language.


I was in eighth grade when my brother announced at dinner that he had decided to become an atheist. My parents didn’t seem to care, but the way he said it made it seem like a big deal. I had no idea what an atheist was, so I asked. I reacted quite strongly when I realized what he meant. He proposed something utterly impossible. Everyone knew that God existed and that Jesus was his son.

That night I had the only religious experience of my life in a dream. Mary couldn’t find her baby. I had to find him. I explored a huge, empty house until I found him. In a cradle, covered in blankets, beside a window, with light pouring over him. There was Jesus. This seemed like such an obvious sign that I needed to find Jesus and affirm my faith.

The next day I told my brother about my dream and tried to argue him out of his atheism. He told me that dreams pick up on events from your day and that explained why I had the dream. Since the dream was the only shred of reason I had to believe in God and Jesus and that Jesus was his son, I became an atheist almost on the spot.


People have asked me for years why I am atheist. I wonder how I could have avoided it.