Sophie Pierce

Writer and Broadcaster

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Sophie Pierce is an agnostic Catholic married to an atheist, but she’s committed to bringing up her two sons to go to church

 

 

I feel quite a freak sometimes.  Not one of my friends is a regular churchgoer, and my husband is what I call a ‘practising atheist’.  On the other hand, I try to go to Mass every week.  And because I am 40, I stand out in church, too.

 

The congregation of my church – in a small South Devon moorland town - is mostly grey haired. I don’t want guitars and dancing, but it would be good to feel part of something alive.  It would be nice if there were more younger people in church.

 

The first time I went to Mass there, shortly after I had moved to the area, was rather depressing. I had my then four year old and my baby in tow, and both were quite noisy. There wasn’t a very friendly atmosphere and I left early.

 

I insist, though, on trying to bring my two boys up in the faith.  Tomorrow is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week, leading up to the most important festival of the Christian year.  A time of sorrow and joy for Christians, but for me it just intensifies my somewhat mixed feelings at being a Catholic parent. Nevertheless, I want my boys to have a sense of the importance of something other than their own needs and outlook on life.  I want them to have a moral framework.  I want them to have a sense of awe. 

 

I also want them to feel part of a wider community, and to have the cultural enrichment that being a member of one of the great religions brings.  I also believe it’s important for their education.

 

You’ll notice I haven’t mentioned anything like the importance of being saved from eternal damnation as a reason for taking my children to Mass. That’s because I don’t claim my religion necessarily has all the answers; I am a kind of agnostic Catholic I suppose.  The important thing is that my children are raised to ask the right sort of questions, and have the broadened perspective that religion gives.

 

Many people who don’t take their children to church say they want to give their youngsters the freedom to ‘choose’ religion later on in life.   I believe, though, that if children are brought up with no religion they don’t actually have a choice.

 

A lapsed Catholic friend said as much to me just recently.  She was concerned about the fact she never takes her daughter to Church.  “I worry that I’m depriving her of the ability to make a choice because she doesn’t actually know anything about Catholicism, she has no familiarity with it”, she said.

 

Children and choice is an interesting concept anyway. You don’t deprive a child of proper meals just because it says it doesn’t want meat and two veg, and would rather have some crisps.

 

In the case of my children, I hope that if they remain Catholics as adults, it will be out of choice.  Equally, if they reject it, they will know what they are rejecting.

 

The fact that my husband is not religious – in fact he’s actively atheist – is not as problematic as you might think. Although he doesn’t believe any of the Church’s teachings, he doesn’t think they do any harm either. It would be difficult if he felt it was wrong to expose the children to the Church – as some people do – and didn’t want them to go.  This would cause division and conflict. As it is, he doesn’t mind me taking them – although he won’t come too. (apart from Easter and Christmas).

 

But I do feel as if I’m ploughing a lonely furrow.  None of my friends here go to church.  Religion is never discussed – apart from occasionally at dinner parties when everyone is rather drunk.  It is simply not part of most people’s lives.  Religion is a minority interest, and as part of a minority you feel marginalised.  Still, there is nothing wrong with that.  It will be good for my children to learn that there is nothing wrong with being different. 

 

What is difficult about religion being a minority interest though is that fewer and fewer people are taking part, and in some ways it is dying a slow and painful death. And that’s when I find it really hard.  There I am on a Sunday morning,  struggling to get the children out of the door while my other half happily snoozes in bed, and for what?  A pathetic attempt to keep going an ancient religion that has outlived its usefulness. 

 

Well, that’s how it feels in the bad times. There are good times too. Our elderly and frail priest is the most wonderful, inspiring person, and has enriched my life.  My boys have just got their first simplified missals, and are at that lovely age where they love being a part of something – whatever it is.  They especially loved being in the church at Christmas – their faces in front of the crib were a picture.

 

I don’t know whether religion has the answers to the mysteries of human existence, but it helps me to cope with life.  As a mother I want to provide my children with everything they need – including spiritual sustenance.

 

They may not find it in the Catholic Church, but at least they will have some idea about how to look for it.