There but for the grace of reason go I

Hello, former (or current!) Jehovah's Witnesses! Or former and current religious folk, to cast the net wider. I was once one of you – and like most believers, so self-assured that I was right in all of my beliefs.

Commence rambling.

My immediate family entered "the Truth" (as the JW's humbly call their brand of faith) when I was only about five, so I don't have a memory of how the change came about. My parents were young, poor, beset by life's troubles (like a bunch of wailing kids), and lacking in the critical analysis skills that a university education (sometimes) provides. They were ripe pickings, in other words, for the evangelicals.

Whatever brought on the conversion, I took it all in stride; what else could I do at that age? You could have told me that the moon was Jesus's giant biscuit and Ritz crackers were its little angel babies, and of course I'd have believed it. And being a somewhat studious and "serious" lad, I lapped up the teachings faster and more thoroughly than most other kids. Well before teen-hood, I was a candidate for baptism – which, for the JW's, is a voluntary dedication, and (theoretically) indicates the wisdom and knowledge to choose "the Truth" for one's self. As a JW rite of passage it's a bit of a big deal, similar to what I understand a Bar Mitzvah to be for Jews.

What happened is that from an early age, I was smugly self-assured in having "the Truth". I believed my faith was the right one. I believed evolution was a nasty falsehood full of holes. I believed that Satan and his demons were out to get us (which, I can now say, is really not a nice thing to be placing in children's minds). I believed the end of the world was coming, bringing the end of most of my relatives and school mates (an even more nasty and anti-social outlook in which to marinate a child).

I went "out in service", doing the door-to-door preaching on Saturdays when normal kids were having fun. I did the little talks and presentations expected of all members of the JW congregation (all male members, that is; as with all things, Jehovah bases leadership criteria first and foremost upon – ahem – the male member). In short, I was in for a penny and in for a pound, or however that odd saying goes.

Not weirdly evangelical, like these broken kids:

More like this poor young girl:

So darned sure that what I knew was right, because – well, because there was no reason to even consider other possibilities. Like other fundies, the JWs firmly affix the blinders to believers' heads.

It's scary to see that video. I didn't hold to the exact same idiocies that this abused girl holds to, or have the same fervent religio-political bent (JWs see politics as part of the "the World" to be shunned).

But like her, I was right. And like the sad, sad older women in that video, I could have stayed that way too. There, but for the grace of reason, went I.

Jump ahead many years. Confession: I almost challenged my first-year biology teacher on evolution. Almost. (Whew.)

The previous year is when faith began to fade, though I don't think I was realizing it yet. I read a Carl Sagan book – The Dragons of Eden, I think it was – not as part of any religion-related inquiry, but out of a lifelong interest in science. (JWs aren't as wholly anti-science as some of the fundies; largely dismissive of it, perhaps, as opposed to frothing at the chops against it.)

That book delves into the mysteries of the simple "reptile brain" that lies at the core of the complex human brain. Fascinating stuff, and I dug it all – until the conclusion. "This 'core' that underlies both our brains and those of all the 'lower' creatures points to a common evolutionary descent", Carl posed (my paraphrasing). "Huh?", I replied. "Can't we just as easily say that this common brain core points to shared Design?" Hmm. At least I was reading good stuff, if still indulging in knee-jerk reactions to it.

The following year, I welcomed first-year biology. I've always loved that field, and there's nothing about, say, the amazing anatomy of a crustacean that butts up against religion. (Well, other than the poor creature being labeled morally "unclean", for no reason it's even aware of.)

But when the professor led us through the widely-accepted workings of evolution, I silently protested again. And while I couldn't march up to Carl Sagan's doorstep, I could visit the prof after class. I was all ready to do so, with this stunning argument in hand: "Isn't evolution an unproven theory? Is it right to be teaching only this one possibility in class? Shouldn't you be acknowledging other possibilities as well?"

Something held me back. Yes, it was the crumbling wall of faith; it told me to think on the matter more before accosting the professor. (The cracks in faith told me to think. What a concept!) I stayed my attack, and lo, the wall crumbled on its own.

In hindsight, I sort of wish I had accosted the prof. She seemed like one tough and smart lady, and I think would have handed me an enlightening smackdown. Yes, it'd have been an embarrassing experience then and an embarrassing memory now, but would have set me on the right path more quickly. Oh well, I ended up straightening myself out anyway, and the professor was saved another reason to fear for the future of humankind.

Ah, writing this brings back a lot of memories, and brings up a lot of new thoughts. So much more to say on the above. Please come by again.