In one of my poetry workshops in college, I felt left out. I was one of the only people who did not come from a religious background, and I could not draw from it. I was the Atheist's Daughter who wrote about how she didn't understand religion, which got laughs. And I'm the kind of person who would continue beating any old joke with a sledge hammer until it dies for a laugh.
I wrote about how church service was like a scripted play (because of the nice handouts with lines they give the sinner children of atheists) and how it took me fifteen good minutes of talking to some blond on campus before I realized he was a pastor in training and was trying to sell me on his church. And he was dressed in black with the white little square over his Adam's apple. And I'm not even sure what form of Catholicism/Christianity he was talking about. And he talked for 40 more minutes with his pastor in training buddies that popped up when they found a sinner who was stupid enough not to run from them.
I began to study religion to write more about how I didn't understand it. I bought a Bible and put it on my bookshelf, between my Qur'an and my Wiccan spellbook. I like to imagine that they get along, reading each other's passages to pass the time.
Through my studying, I began to realize that if God was just someone's neighbor today, that neighbor would probably call DCF on his ass. He must have drugged Mary in her sleep through the use of mirth or some other B.C. drug, and raped her until she was with child JUST so the child can die at the stake many years later.
I also never understood Noah's Ark. Like, if God flooded the Earth because he was so disgusted by human beings' behavior except for Noah's family, and he NEVER did it again (like he promised), then how messed up was society back then? Look at us today, God, look at us today! Was it worth it?