When corresponding with people, atheists and devout Christians alike, the issue of my deconversion often comes up. People often wonder when and where I began to abandon religion and god-belief and why. Other atheists are naturally fascinated by how I came into reality (as am I about them) and Christians, well, they often want to know when Satan took over my soul so they can aid in saving me. Yeah, whatever.=) But anyway, for all who are interested, here now is a brief recount of my deconversion.

I was born into a very religious, traditional Roman Catholic family. My mother has a Polish background and my father is mainly Puerto Rican and Cuban. Actually, my dad's family convert from Catholicism to an evangelical faith when he was teenager. However, my parents separated when I was very young and I was raised in my mom's family: a strong and proud Polish-Roman Catholic heritage.

You have to understand that Poland and the Polish people have been very religious and closely tied to the Catholic Church long before Karol Wojtyla became the first Polish Pope. No other country, except maybe Italy, has stronger loyalties to the Church and few other countires (except Portugal and Spain) have such a high percentage of Roman Catholics amongst it's people. Poland's fierce loyalty to the church endured the Reformation when several nearby country's became Protestant and the Communist Regime when the atheist Soviet dominated government could not force the Polish people away from the Church. When Cardinal Wojtyla became Pope John Paul II in 1978, it only added to Poles and Polish-Americans pride in being Roman Catholic

This pride and loyalty remains even in families who've been in America for generations. Virtually all of my relatives were not only Catholics, but very religious and regular churchgoers. Those few who converted were shunned. Naturally, we've had a few members who entered the clergy as well. I was baptized within a month of my birth and grew up with religion as a major fixture in my life. Now, surely my family aren't fanatics (it's hard to picture a fanatic Catholic, anyway) but many of them do exhibit the smug, certainess that deep religious belief will cause. "Catholicism is absolute right in everything; the Pope is totally infallible and (since he's Polish), especially great" "Protestants are heretical and wrong." This was implied throughout my childhood. I never even really gave it much thought

Considering all of this, one may wonder how I ever was able to question the legitimacy of the Catholic Church, of dogmatic religion as a whole let alone reject it. Well, it came about quite gradually although when I finally did abandon religion, I did so in a swift and complete way. You have to understand that while my relatives are all proud Catholics and regular churchgoers, they vary in how seriously and how loosely the interpret Church doctrine. Among my closer relatives, my Uncle Gerard, who once studied to be a priest, is ultra-traditional and extremely conservative in his beliefs. In fact, he constantly bemoans the modernization of the Church done by Vatican II. My grandmother treats religion like most little old ladies. She prays a lot and never misses church, but she doesn't always accept to the letter, everything the Pope proclaims (especially on secular issues). Lastly, my mom is a firm believer and churchgoer but has little use for the hierarchy of the church or their proclamations. As she is my mother, it was with her that I grew up with most and got the most outlooks on life and religion from.

My mom educated me constantly. Even before I entered school, she wanted me to learn as much as I could. With a Ph.D in American History, I guess she just wanted her son to value education as much as she did. From little on, she taught me to question what I learned and to keep an open mind; never to take anything as fact without evidence. Now, religion was the one exception to this rule, in her mind. But, I never accepted that. So, from little on, theism, religion and the infallibility of the Catholic Church recieved the same questioning and scrutinizing from me as everything else. There was "nothing sacred" to the queries of an inquisitive little boy

I would say that my first doubts regarding God and Jesus came about at the tender age of three. That Christmas, my mom decided it was time to tell me all about Santa Claus. She didn't really want to but felt it her parental duty to share this childhood myth. One Saturday, she sat me down and gave me the full story of Santa all at once. I took it quite nonchalantly and went to play. But, after several hours of thinking and wondering, I (expectedly) concluded that the Santa story didn't quite make sense and went back to my mom with questions. What most puzzled me and what I asked her was "how can Santa go to everyone's house in just one night?" Rather then lie even more (and risk more questions), mom caved in and told me there was no Santa; that it was all a myth that parents tell their kids.

Perhaps you think that was rather cruel; breaking it to me so young But, she'd only told me about Santa in the first place a few hours earlier. So, I was not sad or broken up about it whatsoever. I got used to it and never had a problem with Santa's nonexistence. But, I learned an important lesson. Don't always assume adults are telling kids the truth when it seems too incredible to believe and, benevolent, yet unseen, entities aren't necessarily anything more then legend.

Starting in preschool, I began going to Religious Education classes every week. At first, I loved it. As a youngster it was fun; lots's of interesting stories, games, jokes and all while learning about Jesus and the like. I remember in first grade, we constructed these little signs for the children's "Act of Contrition" which merely stated, "I love you, I am sorry, I will try" For years that little sign hung in my bedroom. And, by about the third grade or so, I had a ritual of saying evening prayers starting with the "Lord's Prayer" then a "Hail Mary"; and a "Glory Be" which was followed by that simplistic Act of Contrition and then anything else I had on my mind. Long after I question the purpose of prayer, I went through this nightly ritual.

Although praying, while useless for spiritual help, had it's benefits during my childhood. Whenever I wanted to stay home from school sick (whether I was or I wasn't) and my mom was deciding, I'd pretend to be sleeping with a rosary in my hands. It worked like a charm every time!

Anyway, by the time I entered middle school, I was getting pretty sick of the weekly C.C.D. classes. Even from a believer's standpoint, it was pretty pointless. Most of the time, the kids just goofed off and the teacher yelled. I complained endlessly about it and, while my mom sympathized, she was unyielding in making me attend However, as the first week of C.C.D. classes started for my sixth grade year, I flat out told her I did wanted now part of it. Her reaction was typical, sympathizing but determined to get me to go first by cajoling, then bribing, then threatening and finally (when all that failed) ordering. A big argument followed. C.C.D. for Middle School was on Sunday nights; at the time the show "ALF" was enormously popular and on at the same time. I'd always been annoyed at missing ALF because of dumb old C.C.D., and this particular occasion, I decided to express this to my mother.

She exploded. "ALF's just a t.v. show! It's not real! Aliens don't exist!" Growing even angrier, I yelled back, "Well, they're more likely to exist then God!" My anger was talking; I didn't really mean it at the time, but the minute it came out of my mouth I got to thinking. Up until this time, I had never actually questioned God's existence, even to myself. He had to exist, my mother said so and she would know and wouldn't lie (I idolized my mom even at age 11). My dad said so too, even though they had very different ideas about God, they both believed in him. God exists, end of story. I knew what an atheist was, but I just assumed they were wrong; until that moment. Then I began to wonder how I, my parents or anyone could know if God exists or not. I didn't know what an agnostic was (I wouldn't even hear the word until later in sixth grade), but I consider that to be the moment I became one, although I didn't realize it for several years.

Thinking occupied a great deal of my time throughout middle school. I was a social outcast; unconcerned about image at an age when image means everything. I had few friends and thus lots of time to ponder all that had confused me. Religion and God were at the top of the list. The existence of God itself, while not at all a certainty, did not trouble me as much as the legitimacy and truthfullness of the Roman Catholic Church. The more I learned of the church's hard-line social policies, regarding abortion, birth control, homosexuality, etc., the more I wondered whether these stands were made at the behest of a God or simply concocted by men; by the church hierarchy (the Pope; the Cardinals; U.S. Conference of Bishops, etc.) Eventually, I came to the conclusion that both the Pope and the Church made and should not be above criticism, questioning or rejection. In time, I would extend this conclusion to God-belief as a whole.

When I was in eighth grade, we transfered parshes. Leaving St. Peter's of east Madison with it's yuppies and snobs, we joined St. James in the central part of the city and very close to the UW campus. I had lapsed in my C.C.D. attendence throughout seventh grade (my mom begrudgingly accepted it) but at a new parish, she expected me to start going again. For once I didn't complain. Eighth graders learned about Church history. Always fascinated by any history (considering my mom's backround in it), I willingly enrolled.

My eighth grade C.C.D. teacher was unlike any I had before. For one thing she was young (a college student) and related to us teens a whole lot easier. More importantly, she was good natured and friendly. Lastly, she was willing to challange us and present unorthodox or unplanned ideas. Most noteworthy (for me, anyway) was when she once asked us, "What if there's no God? What if you die and there's nothing; no God, no heaven?" Nobody said anything, but we all looked pensive. It certainly wasn't something one expected in a C.C.D. class. Not that this was her intent, but that question, like every other incident I've mentioned, was a key part of my gradual deconversion.