The Freedom of Apostasy

My grades at Our Lady of the Foothills were better than good, but nothing extraordinary, so everyone in my town was shocked by my winning a scholarship to Xaverian Brothers High School. My parents were so proud. Their son had answered their prayers.

I lost the scholarship two years later for failing religion. My mother and father were astounded by my F grade until I informed them that my failure was the result of a declaration of non-belief.

“Non-belief in what?”

“I don’t believe in God.”

My mother was horrified by the rejection of her god. She saw me burning in Hell and my father backed her struggle to re-convert their son to the Womb of Jesus. All their attempts were thwarted by my apostasy. My high school girlfriend almost brought me back into the fold. Janet was a cheerleader. She had big breasts. Her virginity was the prize of my re-conversion. We attended a pilgrimage to a holy site in New England. My best friend brought Led Zeppelin’s first album

It was 1968.

The first power chords off Jimmie Page’s guitar reconfirmed my lack of faith. Janet joined my crusade for a year, then wandered back into the fold. She was a good girl.

Since then I’ve worshiped many idols, but only one has remained true.

The soul of man

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