Losing My Religion

by Bree

I’m not especially religious. I wouldn’t say I’m an atheist. Or even an agnostic, really. I guess I’m one of the kazillion people who vaguely describe themselves as “not religious, but spiritual,” even though I suspect a lot of people get annoyed when I do.

I guess I haven’t done a ton of soul-searching yet and so far haven’t felt the need to. (Under duress from a woman who reads over shoulders and shall remain nameless, I hereby acknowledge that either my atheist friends or my deeply religious friends may smugly throw that sentence right back in my face should I end up landing heavily on either side within the next few years.)

My guy has done more thinking about it. He went through a big book outlining the values of major religions and at the end announced that, if he were forced to pick one, he seemed to agree the most with Reform Jews, so that’s the way he’d go. So far no one has called him on it, so we may never know for sure.

Anyway, I show up for church with the family on Christmas and Easter, and my fiancé and I will go along if we’re visiting on a Sunday and we, you know, can’t get out of it.

OK, here’s the only part that I can’t stand admitting to: Even though neither of us are really religious, my groom and I are having a traditional church wedding because I think they’re pretty.

Yes. I know. Fine. I have picked the shallowest possible reason for having a traditional church wedding. But at least we’ve headed a lot of potential hand-wringing off at the pass. Because, though they are very gentle souls, I’m pretty sure that if I’d picked a City Hall wedding or a nondenominational hootenanny or, I don’t know, shouting our vows out to the sea or something, my parents would have freaked. A quiet, tense, WASPy sort of freaking, but freaking all the same. Dad’s golf swing would have been off for weeks.

And, really, my parents are pretty relaxed about this sort of thing. I’ve never hidden the fact that the Intermittently Devout Congregation of Bree holds that the Sabbath must be reserved for sleeping in, jogging, and brunch.

But religion is the one area of the wedding planning process where even the most laissez-fair parents can suddenly go hard-line on you – and those that have been raised in strict faiths can really go ballistic.

To add to the frustration, you can’t even blame them if it happens. For the truly faithful (as you know if you are), religion isn’t just an adjective or something you do, it’s part of your identity. It’s not like your parents are kicking up a fuss about the fact that you don’t want to add Great Aunt Betsy who you’ve never seen to the guest list. In their minds, they may be trying to stop you from actually going to Hell. Wouldn’t you kick up a fuss if your daughter had just cheerfully pressed the call button for the brimstone elevator?

Even without eternal damnation, your parents may have some serious stakes in you having a church wedding. The enormity of the wedding may make your casual attitude towards their religion seem less like a youthful phase and much more like you lightly tossing aside every last thing your grandparents risked their lives to get to the United States for. Not to mention turning your back on countless generations of your proud and beautiful heritage and producing children who will never be able to join their grandparents in the afterlife.

So you can see why your family may suddenly seem a little rigid about these things.

And what with the major life transition and the officially defining yourself as fully independent adults and the fact that these issues can’t help but hit some vital spots for almost everyone involved, you and your fiancé may be discovering a few nonnegotiable points yourselves.

As much as you’re cool with joking about agnostic fence-sitting, you may be discovering that you really do believe strongly in allowing everyone to question and decide for themselves. Can you really agree to raise all of the kids Catholic because your husband’s church demands it? Can you please your parents with a traditional wedding when you’re convinced that their religion is oppressive to women?

I know my fiancé’s conversion is a only a hypothetical one and he’s picked a pretty tolerant bunch should push come to shove, but if he did convert to Judaism and if he did get serious about it… Well, yes, I’d love him and respect his beliefs, but I don’t know if I could just drop Christmas out of our eventual kids’ lives. And not just because it’s pretty.

So here’s the thing I hate typing the second-most in this article. If either one of you has parents who aren’t total all-inclusive find-your-own-path hipwads and you’re planning a mixed-faith wedding or a faith-and-no-faith wedding or a nondenominational wedding or an entirely-new-faith wedding, I can almost guarantee that you are going to have to sit down with your parents and hash it out. And there are very few scenarios in which that conversation won’t suck.

But, with all due respect to faith and heritage, you and your husband are defining the whole rest of your lives together. You have to let your parents know who you are. I’m having a traditional church wedding because it’s pretty, I like my church’s ceremony, and my fiancé couldn’t care less. But my friends who have caved in to parental pressure and essentially faked a religious wedding to keep the peace said it made them feel icky. Like they were starting out married life in the closet.

So what’s the plan?
Definitely talk to your fiancé first, even if you two have previously agreed not to discuss religion ever ever ever. The embargo can go right back in place the minute the wedding is over, but for now you two really need to talk about what you believe and where you can and can’t bend. Might as well get childrearing out of the way while you’re at it.

Then go get a nice meal and do something fun, because next is the second phase: Talking about your parents and where you think they can and can’t bend – and how much family pressure and disapproval you can really handle, should it have to come to that.

Take as long as you need, with as many fun dinners or distractions as you need as rewards, because you absolutely must come out of this with a firm plan, and you absolutely must be united in standing by your decisions when you talk to your families about them. If you think you’re likely to cave to family pressure, be honest so you can think of a plan – and make sure he knows you won’t judge him if he needs to make that admission too.

Go in for the Big Talk gentle, fair, and strong. Know your deal-breakers, support each other to the hilt, and retreat to regroup whenever you need to.

…And, until the scientific world finally steps up and invents empathy software that you can leap forward and shove directly into your parents’ foreheads, that’s pretty much all you or anyone can do. They may never see your point of view, and you’ll need to figure out how to deal with that if it happens. But even if you disagree, your parents will respect you for handling it well. Eventually.

So I tried to tackle one of the Big Issues and I’ve somehow ended up at the sitcom basics: Respect your parents, but be true to yourself.

I feel kind of stupid typing that – though not as stupid as when I said I want a church wedding for the pretty – because it seems so obvious and simple.

On the other hand, as developing a personal creed goes, it’s not a bad place to start.

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