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As I was slowly making my exit out of my lifelong connection to the Christian faith, one afternoon  I remember having coffee with a friend and expressing my frustration over much of the close-mindedness and ignorance I kept encountering in the church.  It was all starting to add up for me.

My friend reminded me of a scene in Yann Martel’s novel, The Life of Pi.  In the book, the main character’s family were zookeepers, and one of the early chapters challenges the held belief that zoos imprison and deny freedom to the animals kept inside.  The character defends the use of cages, saying that there are certain “illusions about freedom” that set people against the captivity of animals, but that having animals behind bars in zoos provides a type of security that they are unable to find in the wild.

After reminding me of this section in the book, my friend then made an analogy to many people in the church — he said, “some animals need their cages,” implying that for some in the church, having the security of bars separating you from the world (particularly metaphorical ones that dogma can supply) is more important than having the freedom to be out in the wild on their own.

Security (read: certitude) — but at such a high cost.

I remember feeling so dumbfounded by his analogy — my friend, someone who I considered intelligent and compassionate, conceded that it was better to let some in the church be kept in captivity than to set them free into the unknown. [Thinking back, I suppose it was a nice way of him telling me to shut up with my challenging questions, and just accept the mental imprisonment of some in the church.]

I thought about this past episode of my life when I read Greta Christina’s latest essay: 9/11 and the Shallow Comfort of Religion.  I’ve been a years-long fan of Greta, and I think this may be my favorite essay of hers yet.  In this blog post, Greta remembers her initial response to the events of September 11th, and how part of her really wished — for about four seconds — that there was a God who could make the events of that day right, whether in punishing the offenders or providing a second chance at life for the people who were brutally murdered.

But then she realized:

If I believed in God, I wouldn’t be comforted.

If I believed in God, I’d be furious. I’d want to find the biggest ladder I could, climb up to Heaven, and punch God right in the face.

The best part of her article follows — Greta is laser-sharp in pointing out many of the reasons why I rejected my faith: her conclusion, and I’m realizing now, mine too is that

… the comforts of religion are only comforting when you don’t think about them very carefully.

She then goes through a list of many caveats that religious belief offers its adherents — such as ultimate justice, eternal life, and believing that everything works out for an ultimate plan — and then deftly concludes that these beliefs are only potent when you don’t take the time to fully think them through.  Because when you do think about them, and the logical extensions/implications of what these “comforts” really provide, they are not as welcoming or engaging as you initially thought.

Reading Greta’s reflections here hit me like a ton of bricks.

Over the last few weeks I’ve been thinking about the effect my “outed” atheism has had on many of the relationships I have with my friends and family who are still believers. For some, my godlessness hasn’t phased our friendship at all — but for other important relationships, I can tell that my willingness to question these religious “comforts” has caused many in my life to pull away from me.  I’ve been struggling to understand why — but after reading Greta’s essay, I think I may have a better understanding.

I’m shaking up people’s religious cages.  My relentless questioning of certain dogmas and pushing of buttons and boundaries is probably in part forcing some of these people I love to question their comfort, and to start to see cracks in beliefs they hold dear.

So what do I do?

Do I respect the cage?

I can’t.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t see myself as a type of animal liberator in this (extended!) zoo analogy. I’m not out there turning animals into the streets against their will — but there’s a part of me who just can’t stand on the sidelines and enjoy confinement from a distance. I just can’t. So, I rattle a couple cages now and then. And sometimes I’ll even sneak up close to a cage and will be brave enough to unlock a door and swing it open.  I know that the choice of freedom isn’t one I can enforce …

but I also know I can’t be happy anymore to simply observe captivity.