I found a preacher who looked at the dregs of his society – adulteresses, Samaritans, tax collectors – and saw their inherent dignity. Instead, I found a radical whose “turn the other cheek” doctrine was a form of civil disobedience against oppressive Roman laws. In that book, I expected to find a sanitized hippy who preached an apolitical gospel of tolerance. One of those life-changing books – for me, at least – was Reza Aslan’s Zealot, my first foray into the discovery of the historical Jesus. Most of you would agree when I say that books can change lives. What I found wasn’t a reignition of faith – it was the final straw. I was taught not to worship false idols, yet the levels of opulence I saw in the Church and her followers left me with the feeling that they were simply using money as their proverbial golden calf.ĭesperate to alleviate the dissonance I felt, I embarked on a personal search for Jesus. I was taught about a God who forsook the material world by a church obsessed with ivory statues to golden cups. I was taught about a God of social justice, yet saw hypocrisies and cover-ups everywhere in the life of the Church. (READ: I’ve Got An Opinion: I don’t believe in god) But if I were to pinpoint the primary reason for my own unbelief, it would be cognitive dissonance. My own journey towards unbelief is too complicated to be summarized in a single essay, and involves some topics I simply don’t have the energy to discuss publicly. I was baptized before I could even speak, received confirmation as a tween, and regularly took Holy Communion until I was 15 years old. Like 80.6% of Filipinos, I was raised Roman Catholic.
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