Dear Richard,

I was baptized Catholic when I was a baby, so obviously I had no say in the matter. As a non-believing adult, I want to remove myself from the central Catholic baptismal roster/records/big book…whatever it’s called? Would you know how to do this? Do I contact the bishop of the country I was originally born and baptized in, or do I try to contact a particular Vatican office? Any suggestions on where/how to start this process are very welcome.

Thank you,
Daniel

Dear Daniel,

Short answer:
This website, Count Me Out, was started in Ireland in part in reaction to the increasing number of child abuse scandals by various institutions of the Catholic Church, including the infamous Ryan report. They have a form that people can fill out that they say starts the process of being officially removed from the rosters of the Catholic Church with a “Declaration of Defection.” They also have a very informative FAQ section which discusses the different procedures in various countries other than Ireland. At the time of my writing, they claim to have helped more than 6,400 people to complete and send a Declaration of Defection to the proper Church authorities.

Here is an interesting six minute Irish television news report that includes Count Me Out. It’s mainly about these issues in Ireland, but it also covers issues that may be pertinent to many people.

Longer answer:
Daniel, I don’t know if this applies to you, but some people might wonder, if you’re really over your belief in gods, then why don’t you just walk away? If you no longer believe in what gives the Church its authority, what does it matter to you that some bishop officially scratches your name off a list?

Some people might even suggest that maybe you still have some lingering notion of the Church’s intrinsic power, rather than just the power that you were giving it when you were a believer, and that wanting this formal parting from the Church is actually reaffirming the power it still has over you. They might say that if you are truly free of the Church, then you should be able to follow the advice of Paul Simon’s song, 50 Ways to Leave Your Lover:

You just slip out the back, Jack
Make a new plan, Stan
You don’t need to be coy, Roy
Just listen to me
Hop on the bus, Gus
You don’t need to discuss much
Just drop off the key, Lee
And get yourself free

I can see the point that such people would be making, and I think it would be a good idea to search yourself for any sticky bits of the spell that might remain in the nooks and crannies of your mind, and clean them out.

But these arguments do not necessarily apply to everyone who wants to file a Declaration of Defection. I can understand at least two reasons why someone who is fully free of the Church’s authority in their mind would still want to have a formal, recognized separation.

The first is a political reason. In some countries, the Catholic Church is intermingled with the civil government in various ways, and they benefit from public funds for providing services such as schools. Their claim to have large numbers of members gives them more clout to ask for a larger portion of taxpayer money. If you don’t want to support that kind of church/state entanglement, or to have your name adding to the Church’s claim of its size, and therefore the power and money it can wield, then it would make sense to want your name properly taken off their books.

One problem with this is that it’s not in the Church’s financial or political interests to accurately report a shrinking membership to the government. So I would not be surprised if they are quite lax about getting around to removing names, or counting anyone as having ever left the Church. I don’t know if there’s any way the Church membership census can be independently audited, to really know how many people are actively involved, how many are Catholic in name only, and how many have formally left. It’s tempting for groups to pretend to be bigger than they are, especially when no one else does the counting.

The second reason is an emotional one, and emotional needs can be just as legitimate as any other. Some people have more than simply lost their interest in religion. Some have had difficult or painful experiences while under the control of the Church, or have been through a difficult or painful process of letting go of their beliefs. So they have a need to express their hard-won emancipation directly to the institution against which they struggled. They want the Church to actually hear their farewells or their screw you’s, and they want the Church to see, at least figuratively on an official document, their raised third digit. It’s important to them that the object of their disaffection actually see such a gesture. It’s about defiance, finality, and closure. Then their healing can continue.

Daniel, whatever is your need for this, I hope that it helps your healing to continue, and you can finally walk away “and get yourself free.” Perhaps the final stage of freedom is no longer thinking about the Church at all.

Richard

You may send your questions for Richard to . Please keep your letters concise. All will eventually be answered, but not all can be published. There is a large number of requests; please be patient.

I’m going to find you in my Prius and teach you a lesson.

In 2005, Mayor Ray Nagin proclaimed May 5^th of that year the National Day of Reason.

In 2009, the City Council issued a proclamation stating that May 7^th of that year would be a Citywide Day of Reason.

This week, the City Council is back at it.

February 12^th, 2010 is Darwin Day in New Orleans!

I suggest celebrating by doing whatever it is they do on Bourbon Street. (Which, I assume, is playing Scrabble and hopscotch.)

Jim would take those filled-out surveys and share them with the pastors of these churches, explaining what visitors liked and didn’t like about their visit.

I wasn’t the first person to do this for him, and with Jim’s new site, I won’t be anywhere near the last.

Jim has created a full-blown version of his brainchild, ChurchRater.

“We say it’s our mission to reach out, including to nonbelievers,” Henderson, 62, says. “So why would we not want them to tell us what they think of our efforts to influence, change or even convert them?”

One reason might be that it can be brutal.

His Web site is free and open to believers and doubters alike, to say whatever they want. You can post reviews and one- to five-star ratings of churches, much as Yelp or Urban Spoon rank restaurants.

A church in Everett got one star because someone found the pastor too self-absorbed.

“All his stories are centered around his perfect life,” it says, citing a “perfect blonde wife” and Hallmark kids. “And if we sign up for Jesus, we’ll be perfect, too. Uhhhh … is this really what Jesus told you to do?”

…

So far only 40 churches in Washington have been rated on the Web site, not enough for it to reach a critical mass. Henderson says 30 more have expressed interest in his paid ratings services, which can range from $250 (for two visits by raters plus a written report) on up to $2,950 (for a weekend-long focus group between “outsiders” and church members, moderated by him).

I wouldn’t be surprised if more churches subject themselves to “mystery worshipers” before long — they’re businesses and they want to do what they can to bring in new customers.

These churches could just hang on to the money if regular churchgoers had the guts to tell their pastors what they didn’t like about church — what they found offensive or untrue or disingenuous.

But they almost never do, so I guess it’s our job to tell the truth.

It doesn’t ask that they become atheists — he has a different goal in mind:

I love the video. My worry, though, is that many young Christians will say they have no problem with expressing doubt.

They question plenty of things:

Evolution.

Sex education.

And, yes, in some cases, certain things their religious leaders say.

But they have no doubts whatsoever about things like the resurrection of Jesus, or the existence of an afterlife, or that a god listens to their prayers. They won’t bother ever questioning those beliefs, and nothing that others say will get them to reconsider.

(Thanks to Ashley for the link)

19 kids…? My eyes wanted to bulge at the sight of that number, but they stopped doing that when the number hit double digits.

It’s just not a surprise anymore.

The question on the cover is “How Many Kids Are Too Many?” (Really, People magazine, it took you 19 kids to ask this question???)

It’s really easy to bash the Duggars for their reproductive fortitude. I know I’ve done it in the past — just because you can have so many children doesn’t mean you should have so many children — but I’m starting to change my mind.

I’ve heard people go after the Duggars for a number of reasons:

• They have too many kids.
• It’s unhealthy for the mom.
• It’s bad for the individual children.
• The media glare (from their TV show) is bad for the little kids.
• The overpopulation aspect — If other families did what they did, this world would go haywire in a matter of generations. It’s irresponsible of them to have so many children!
• They instill (brainwash) fundamentalist Christian values into the children.
• The children are forced to give up their own youth to care for their younger siblings. (Though none seem to mind.)
• They’re ruining the letter J for the rest of us.
• If my math is correct, in a few generations, all of us will have a Duggar in our family.

But the Duggars are not like the Octomom, who is trying to raise 14 children as a single mom while unemployed and on public assistance. They’re not desperately trying to hog the spotlight. (Really. I mean that. Despite their level of publicity, the Duggars don’t strike me as media-whores in the same way that Jon and Kate do.) The family’s health also seems to be pretty good overall (the most recent child was born premature, but I don’t think the age of the mother or the number of previous births has anything to do with that.)

There are some arguments to silence the critics:

• They’re not in debt. (No doubt their TV show helps with that.)
• As far as I can tell, they’re supporting themselves. (Jim Bob Duggar was a state representative in Arkansas for a couple years, and I’ve heard this entitles his family to free health care for life, but I can’t find a credible citation for this. Their house is paid for, too, partly because it was previously incorporated as a tax-exempt “church” — again, I can’t find a credible citation for this.)
• The kids seem to be good citizens, not getting into any trouble with the law.
• The parents seem to care for the children as much as you would want any parent to — it would be easy to find examples of one-child parents who don’t have the connection to their kid as much as the Duggars do to each of theirs.
• The Duggars are in a committed relationship (unlike this dude with 19 kids).
• While some Quiverfull women have left the movement, Michelle Duggar appears willing and able to be giving birth to so many kids.

…

So what’s the problem?

I doubt anyone would ever want our government instituting some law about how many kids a family should be allowed to have.

We argue that women should have the right to do as she wishes with their bodies… and this is a woman doing just that.

The best argument I’ve heard has to do with the older children having to give up their lives to take care of the younger children, but this doesn’t strike me as too awful. The kids are happy to be helping out their family in this way.

You can argue they’re giving up their individuality, or giving up a social life, but even with a couple kids, this isn’t too far off from what “regular” Christian homeschooling families do. Don’t like it? That’s an argument against Christian homeschooling, not this particular family.

Don’t like that they’re raising the kids with their particular brand of religion? That’s an argument against fundamentalist Christianity, not this particular family.

Is Michelle just brainwashed into doing all this? Again, it’s an argument against faith, not specific to just this family.

Maybe we should just salute the Duggars for (ironically) winning the game of evolution…

…

Incidentally, my interview with Kathryn Joyce, author of Quiverfull: Inside the Christian Patriarchy Movement, can be found here. It describes the type of lifestyle the Duggars have chosen to follow.

5:42 Third Commercial in. Good placement.

***End live-blogging***

Well, that was fun.

What should I do the rest of the night?

The transcript:

Pam Tebow: I call him my miracle baby. He almost didn’t make it into this world. I remember so many times when I almost lost him. It was so hard. Well he’s all grown up now, and I still worry about his health. Everybody treats him like he’s different, but to me, he’s just my baby. He’s my Timmy, and I love him.

Tim Tebow: Thanks mom. Love you too.

The most controversial thing there?

At the end of the commercial is a message to go to Focus on the Family’s website for more information.

Can we move on now?

(Thanks to Ungullible for the link!)

When that happens, atheists will go from having our own unique subculture to being part of the mainstream.

I think a lot of us would love for that to be the case, but there would be a slight wistfulness about it. For all we would gain, we would also be losing a lot.

What would you miss when atheism goes “mainstream”?

Claudia writes in an email:

My initial first guess is that I’ll miss the intellectual debate. As atheism becomes more widespread, it will become an assumption, not something people come to through reason. As such we can expect the correlation between education and atheism to blur, and the conversation amongst atheists to become less stimulating.

I can add to that:

We would miss getting any attention when we fight for our rights.

We would miss the instant “connection” we make when meeting another atheist.

We would miss the joy that comes from being able to speak your mind for the first time (without worrying that someone is going to attack you for it).

We would miss the major life change that comes from telling people that you’ve lost your faith (and have no desire to “find” it).

We would miss conferences, local meetups, campus groups, and rallies.

Some of these things will linger even when we are part of the everyday culture (it’s not like Christian groups have faded away, and they’ve been mainstream for forever), but it won’t be the same thing.

What would you miss?