I WAS A TEENAGE ATHEIST

By John Daquila

“I Was A Teenage Atheist!”
It sounds like part of a 1950’s Bible belt movie matinee, doesn’t it? Bundled up with “Reefer Madness”, you’ve got a double bill that would make McCarthy proud!

In spite of all the silly images the statement “I Was A Teenage Atheist” might convey, it does remain - at least for me - a true statement. I, John Daquila, was a teenage atheist. Proud of it, too. While I no longer consider myself an atheist, I hope that fact doesn’t detract from my idea that atheism is not only a useful tool in finding one’s own spiritual path, but is a valid spiritual path in it’s own right.

I am the son of two Roman Catholics who attended church every Sunday. I was sent to Catholic school, read in church, had parents active in the church - teachers and performers in the church folk group - and I was even an altar boy. To tell the truth, I could have just as easily written a piece titled, “I Was A Pre-teen Papist.”

So, what happened?

I can’t pin down one precise moment. Rather, I have bits and pieces that brought me to declare myself an atheist by the time I reached 15. Example: I recall a discussion with my mother about Hell when I was around 7 or so. I must have been really worried about going there, or that someone I knew was well on their way, because I can remember her frustration as she blurted out, “Only bad people go to hell!”

“Like who?”, I asked.

“Like murderers,” she replied, “and Nazis.”

“Like in Indiana Jones?”

“Yes,” she answered.

“Oh,” I said, and was off to find my sisters’ jump rope to use as a whip. The ball was rolling and a lot of my questions about Hell remained. Why did anyone go there if God forgave everyone? If God is nothing but good, then why did he create evil? And why would a being of infinite love and light even bother creating Hell? Why not a cool waterslide?

Incidents like that that left me uncertain, and questions like those piled up until I became certain that there was nothing out there. While I do not recall the exact moment I became an atheist, I do remember the freedom it provided to my teenage mind.

Suddenly, all those “evil” heavy metal bands weren’t so scary. In fact, some were pretty good. Others were unintentionally hilarious. I could hear new voices of dissent, new questions and perspectives without fear of incurring some unseen wrath, or worry that I was breaking an arbitrary rule of some sort. Lack of fear led me to new intellectual pursuits as well… psychology, anthropology and philosophy would not have been nearly as awe-inspiring had I been shackled to my old notions of what I could and couldn’t do.

Sure, things felt awkward every Sunday in church, and especially in CCD - a Catholic religion course for public school kids - where my own mother was the teacher. That was okay. I could sit there, nod and smirk… because my mom wasn’t going to send me to hell, either.

Perhaps the most important part of the freedom atheism provided was that it left me open to new ideas. Ideas about what could be considered spiritual, how everyday things could nourish the soul. Ideas about how people should treat people. Wanting to help my fellow humans became easier, because without a heaven or a hell it meant we were all stuck on this ride together. So why not make it better?

Some have gone their whole life without a day of doubt. Others have yet to go a day without asking questions. Some say that atheism is a required phase for anyone who grew up religious. For many, myself included, atheism fills an important need: a need to prove I am real a person. I could control my own destiny, deal with the repercussions, that I could find a way without hate, without hell. Atheism can let you start from scratch, give you a new path.

While I am no longer an atheist, I am certainly not a “believer.” My faith now is that there is a way. An inherent love and law in the universe, touched equally in part by science, spirit, mind, body and soul. At times, dwelling on the possibilities of this worldview makes the whole world and everything in it seem brand new. At times the old, familiar frameworks of prior beliefs taint this view. Old ways of thinking cloud perceptions and make it easy to label and lash out. When those time are upon me, is when I am the most glad that I spent so many years learning how to take it all apart.

When not pounding ham-fistedly at a keyboard, John is lucky husband and father, and a member of the lay-led Delaware Unitarian Universalist Fellowship. He welcomes comments, quips and conversations at JohnWDaquila@yahoo.com