I have an unnecessary two-letter-one-symbol first name (no) thanks to the priest who baptized me at a small Catholic church in Batangas. He said I had to have it. That my “modern” name wasn’t enough. I had to prefix it with one that honors the church, the holy family.
I also have a 13-year-old daughter. Her two names are inspired by music. We didn’t have her baptized and she doesn’t have a God.
A nation hooked on religion
There are more than 85 million Catholics in the Philippines, according to the 2020 Philippine Statistics Authority‘s Census on Population. They’re followed in number by Muslims at close to 7 million, and members of the Iglesia ni Cristo at 2.8 million.
Close to 44,000 people said in the survey that they don’t belong in a religious sect. I don’t believe we’re formally included in that list, but as you may have gleaned, my husband, our daughter and I essentially are.
But before that, I was on the other side of the fence. In the thick of it.
Growing up, we had “go to church” on our itinerary for most, if not all, Sundays. Whether we’d attend a mass or not, we’d have to visit — before heading to my paternal grandma’s place, going to Makati to (window) shop, no matter what.
Prayers marked the start of any class. The school I went to in elementary didn’t claim to be non-secular, but it was called Blessed Christ Child Montessori.
In high school, I was actually enrolled in a Catholic institution. The four-finger-below-the-knee-skirt kind of school. The no-dyeing-your-hair kind of school. The no-makeup-wearing kind of school. The studs-or-pearls-only-for-earrings kind of school. The cough-while-speaking-to-a-teacher-and-be-told-you’re-impolite kind of school. We were to pray the rosary to bide the time when a teacher’s not in. I was the “Spiritual Chairman” of my class at one point.
The hymns and songs of my Catholic upbringing are etched in my brain, their words still mostly clear in my head. I still sing along sometimes when I hear them — at odd places like Jollibee or the supermarket or a convenience store.
Pray it away
I can’t say I never experienced the joy of being a member of a large community brought together by a single belief. Or that I never felt teary-eyed after hearing a “miracle” or a testimony about how God moved mysteriously, but ultimately, in a person’s favor. It would be an utter lie to say I never prayed and meant every word, and pleaded for God’s grace and blessings, and did it again for good measure — just in case He didn’t hear me clearly the first time.
When my mother was bleeding, for what seemed like months on end, I prayed that God would heal her. Take away what’s ailing my mother, Lord, no matter what it takes, I begged. When my father would not call for weeks, months, while in the middle of the ocean, I prayed for his safety. Lord, keep him in your watchful eye and cover him in Your most precious blood, I would say in my head.
In college, most of my friends were Christians. Despite having different beliefs in some areas of the faith and following different rituals, we all prayed to Jesus and his Dad. We were kids trying to find our paths, hoping God would take the lead.
I can’t erase this memory of one night, after theater class (or was it theater rehearsals?), when two friends and I were led to the topic of crushes. Not a weird area of interest. Except that our guy friend, troubled, said that he felt bad about being attracted to guys. We all agreed that he had to pray the gay away. God would help him, of course. Sometime ago, I learned that he now has a wife.
In moments of defeat, I resigned to the idea that it was all in His plan. No matter if I felt that I was slighted. Diyos na ang bahala sa inyo, I told myself, suddenly strengthened by the belief that justice would be served — maybe not then, but “in His time.”
When something great happened, despite my hard work, I said: Thank you, Lord, for this blessing. It couldn’t have happened if it weren’t for His will.
Self-denial is a hallmark trait of a believer.
Questions as endless as “God’s mercy”
In joy, in pain, God is said to be there. He is the cause and point of everything. God is omniscient. No matter what, he always listens.
I wonder now if God was also all-ears when I asked him why he made life for so many people so unsafe, so unfair? Man did that, not God. So why didn’t God make it so that people aren’t corrupt and vile and monsters on Earth? Free will. If he were omnipotent, why can’t he change these people’s minds?
Why didn’t God stop the priests who abused children? Or any abuser for that matter? Oh, was it because that was the devil’s doing? I thought God was supposed to be the most powerful of all.
***
There was no big epiphany for me. No huge turning point. I don’t remember when it all clicked and how. The questions started early though, even when I was devout. And they never really went away.
Religion? N/A
So when the time came, my husband and I decided to raise our daughter without religion, without a God. If, in the future, she feels compelled to seek a “higher being” to help her live and lead her life, we’ll let her decide.
We did put “Christian” as her religion when filling out enrollment forms when she was younger. It didn’t matter that my husband and I were both baptized as Catholics. A pastor did officiate our marriage, so that counts perhaps. We just didn’t want her to feel outcast or be burdened by questions.
When she stepped into high school, we decided to tell the truth on her official scholastic documents. It’s an art school, after all. On the blank beside the word RELIGION, we put N/A. In our daughter’s Grade 7 Values Education class, the teacher asked each student what their religion was. She wasn’t asked further when she said “wala.”
It wasn’t easy in the beginning, though. There was friction when my parents wanted our then seven-month-old daughter to be baptized before we travelled to my husband’s hometown. The belief was that if she pledged her life to the Lord and the church — no matter if it were me and her father speaking for her and she had no say in it whatsoever — she would be saved and go straight to blissful heaven, should we all die in a plane crash. Unbaptized, she’d roam purgatory forever.
A life of fear, especially of the unknown, is something we didn’t want her to lead.
Godless but good
Catholic guilt shaped and led my adolescent life. I was taught that every move I make must be pleasing to God. Do this and you’ll burn in hell forever. The fear of eternal damnation was the biggest motivator for living and being.
But what about here and now?
And what about the fact that God has been made an excuse for many people’s viciousness?
I’d rather my child not know the Our Father as long as she’s good and kind to others — not because it will secure her a cushy seat in the great beyond but because it is what’s just and right.
***
When my husband and I made the decision to rear our daughter with empathy as the true north of her moral compass, we were hopeful, more than anything else, that we were heading in the right direction. It wasn’t faith that led to it but a genuine desire to empower her to make honest and just decisions.
We do ask her, from time to time, if she feels the need to find a God or join a religion. The answer is no. And we respect that. It might change in the future, who knows? For now, we’re content with her believing in elves and ghosts.
She still has a lot of growing up to do, and we’re in no rush at all for her to be an adult. But already, she is wonderful, in so many ways I couldn’t have imagined.
Save for the weekly (sometimes bi-weekly) runs to the bookstore for new material to read, she rarely asks for gifts. Even then they would be button pins or stickers featuring the fandoms she’s in. She’s infinitely more secure than me when I was that age in that regard.
Her peers see her as responsible and reliable. She’s always there to help her friends out. Her love language for them is words of affirmation.
While she doesn’t speak up as much as teachers would like, she gives her best when she needs to. She’s not afraid to lead and try.
At home, she is helpful. She is sweet in her own little ways. She is just and kind. She is smart and discerning and wise and empathetic. She is amazing.
There is perhaps no way to conclude whether or not the path we chose was right. More so, perhaps, there isn’t a reason to quantify it. We’re just helping our child be the person she wants to be, warts and all, after all. And I don’t think it’s fair to attribute all her goodness to her rearing.
The case of others who did it before us brings us hope though. Kids raised without religion are “less vengeful, less nationalistic, less materialistic, less authoritarian, and more tolerant, on average, than religious adults,” a study at Duke University says.
When our daughter’s older, I’m sure she’ll let us know if our choice helped or not. Unless she says we should, I’ll never regret raising her without a God.