When You Believe; December 5 2022

Our tree is up! I got it out of storage over the weekend while my kid was at her Nana’s house, and surprised her with decorations when she got home. There are a few presents under there, but none of them for the four-year-old, who cannot be trusted not to open them early.

Her kindergarten teachers sent out an email recently inviting parents to share their holiday traditions with the class. It’s a phenomenal idea; I love that she’s going to learn about different celebrations right from the source, because television specials can’t answer questions.

I’m a little sad that I have nothing to share, though. I’m what I’ll call a spiritual atheist – not quite agnostic, because I truly don’t believe in a God in any of the senses I’ve heard about – but I do believe there are things we don’t yet understand. Either way, Christmas isn’t celebrated in a Christian way, in my house. It’s such a widespread and commercialized holiday that it’s lost all ties to religion, in my head. Christmas is an excuse to celebrate the people I love and to perk up winter, an otherwise dreary season.

But getting away from the holidays, I want to talk about this weird privilege I only recently realized I have, as an atheist. I’m not talking about a lack of persecution based on my beliefs, because I knew about that already. The privilege I have is in not taking religion into consideration at all.

I was recently accused of discriminating against someone for their religion – namely, they’d done some things that led us to believe they were homophobic, and they claimed both that they weren’t homophobic, but that we only thought so because they happen to be religious.

It’s wild, because their religion has no bearing on my life. It didn’t even occur to me to think that way.

Once that clicked, I realized that I’ve been playing with a double-edged sword. I’ve never discriminated against anyone for their beliefs, but has that also meant I’ve been disrespecting them?

I remember back in high school, the majority of students were Muslim. There was a period of time in which I fasted along with them, because all of my friends were fasting – it just seemed like the thing to do. Eventually I was discouraged from doing this (not for reasons relating to religion, but because I was severely underweight already and prone to fainting spells). Back then I had all sorts of opinions I wince at now, but none of them related to religion. I wonder if I was more socially aware, in a way, back then. I kept track of holidays that weren’t my own. I knew what foods not to offer someone, what activities were considered haram. These days, I have to be told.

Obviously it’s tricky, trying to educate myself on everything, but I have taken steps. When I first moved into my current apartment, I downloaded a calendar of Jewish holidays, knowing it to be a very Jewish area. I want to do more. I never want to stop learning.

You’re my witnesses, readers: I vow to take religion into consideration more often, with nothing but respect for it.

Now, it’s time for our story:

So they were in danger. Somehow, Sage wasn’t surprised.

“I’ll draw you a map. You might be able to hide out in the city without detection.” Inanna rose again. “Wait right here.”

Strangely, Sage felt disinclined to listen; perhaps they’d been alone for too long, but the mere thought of being apart from Inanna left an unpleasant taste in their mouth. They much preferred to follow her.