First trip back to church this week after my conversion. It was one of several I'm going to have to make for appearances' sake, as my wife wants our kids to have some religious upbringing.
I had been back only once since January. It was good to see old faces, many of whom asked where we had been. ("We've, uh, been on a break," was our response.) But during service, everything suddenly appeared...pointless. Talk of angels, beliefs in a second coming and resurrection of the dead, and seeing fellow parishioners praying - Really?
I still understood why they needed it - some searched for meaning and stability in their crazy world. Some marveled in their god's glory and praised it. But I pitied them.
Oddly enough, my ire was directed toward the priest, who is generally a nice person. I felt that deep down, after all those years of seminary and Bible study, surely he had figured this out. Surely he had seen the inconsistencies in scripture. Surely he knew that this was a sham all along but was continuing the ruse, like parents do to their kids regarding Santa Claus.
I don't know when I'll be back. I'll sing the hymns (I enjoy singing), but I can't bring myself to mumble creeds and participate in bizarre responsive readings anymore.