The remark came at a moment when my partner was conveniently absent. My children were buzzing with excitement over their Advent calendar, which we enjoy for the countdown to Christmas—despite not practicing any religious traditions. “You really should take those kids to church,” my mother insisted, her voice low.
“I really don’t need to,” I countered.
“Yes, you do,” she pressed.
“Really, I don’t,” I reiterated.
That seemed to end the discussion; perhaps she sensed I was growing impatient.
Since stepping away from the Catholic Church, I’ve faced countless suggestions that I should attend church—either for my benefit or, more commonly, for the sake of my children. The alternatives presented were almost comical: “What about Episcopalian? Or maybe Lutheran? Have you considered Unitarian Universalism?” For a while, I even contemplated the Quakers. The pressure to find some form of worship was palpable, especially when raised with the belief that skipping Mass could lead to dire consequences.
But I’ve come to realize that church attendance is not a requirement.
My children are flourishing without formal religious education. They don’t need to subscribe to the notion that someone on a cross died for their sins to learn the importance of kindness and empathy. These concepts are separate, as I’ve observed. It’s unnecessary for me to impart beliefs I, as an agnostic, don’t hold just to ensure they grow up “good.” Instead, we engage in discussions about ethics, morality, and historical figures—analyzing their choices and actions, and those of their peers.
No weekly dose of religion is required for my children to develop sound ethical principles.
They don’t need to attend church to discuss such matters. In fact, the last time I checked, church sermons often involve convoluted parables that are difficult for young minds to comprehend.
Attending church usually entails one of two scenarios, both problematic. My kids either endure a lengthy service that they find tedious and irrelevant or are whisked away to “Sunday School,” where they are split up by age and placed in the care of unfamiliar adults. These individuals often lack the training to handle my children’s unique needs.
All of my kids have ADHD, which can sometimes be mistaken for deliberate misbehavior. When we do venture into a church environment, we often draw disapproving glances for our children’s behavior, as others assume they are simply unruly. It’s ironic, considering the very same people are reflecting on God’s love and acceptance.
Additionally, the logistics of getting to church are daunting. Early mornings require waking the kids, preparing food, dressing everyone, and hoping we arrive on time—all while trying to maintain peace in the car. Let’s be real: my children learn more about colorful language than they do about Christ on these outings. The effort required just to attend church is a sacrifice in itself. In contrast, sleeping in on Sundays and enjoying a leisurely breakfast of fast-food pancakes sounds far more appealing.
Church communities often reflect significant racial, social, and economic segregation. This is troubling. They can also be divided by language and ethnicity, which I find deeply problematic. If you’re seeking diversity, you’re more likely to find it in local initiatives like our peace resource network or in organizations like Food Not Bombs. Yes, exceptions exist, and I’m sure someone will point them out in the comments, but this is the general trend I’ve observed.
Above all, my children don’t require weekly religious rituals to cultivate their ethical values. They exhibit remarkable care for one another and demonstrate kindness. We actively engage in conversations about real social justice issues—not debating biblical texts on topics like homosexuality, but instead discussing how we can respond to crises like AIDS and how we can help those in need in our community. They witness me making mats for the homeless rather than singing hymns to a deity whose existence is uncertain.
We instill in them the belief that their purpose is to enhance the lives of others, leaving the world better than they found it.
And no, they don’t need to attend church to achieve that.
I’ll be sleeping in on Sundays, Mom.
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Summary:
The author discusses their choice not to take their children to church, asserting that their kids are developing ethical values without religious instruction. They share their experiences with societal pressure to attend church, the challenges faced due to their children’s ADHD, and the belief that kindness and compassion do not require religious frameworks.
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