We are having a secular Easter and pretty much ignored Passover. We “hid” eggs for my nearly two-year-old son, meaning we just scattered them around the living room in obvious places. We didn’t anticipate that the cat would think this was the best thing ever. Smells like food, rolls like a ball! Eggs everywhere. Oh well.

Growing up, my family did the eggs and baskets and never once went to church. However, we sometimes did a Passover seder. I remember loving it, and then as an adult, I decided the whole story was pretty wacky. I mean, God kills thousands of people in that tale. It seems like if he could appear as a pillar of fire and part the Red Sea, well, he might have been able to get the Jews out of Egypt with a little less bloodshed. The whole process was wildly inefficient.

Last night we stumbled across the Charlton Heston Ten Commandments and had to watch. The crowd scenes and the visuals are pretty amazing. The performances are bizarre and stiff, as if everyone is trying to act…Biblical. I could see, though, how metaphors in this story work to guide people. Sure, the whole thing is bloody and primitive, but underneath it all, one basic message is that if you don’t fight what seems to be your obvious destiny, paths will open up to you. If you keep fighting, you’re going to have major, epic problems. That’s the incredibly watered down, secular moral I was able to take away from watching Pharoah’s struggle against God. But apparently in the Bible, it’s God who hardens Pharoah’s heart, which hardly seems sporting. In the movie, of course, it’s a very sexy woman who causes all the trouble for Pharoah, speaking with her “serpent’s tongue” and spurring Ramses to fight the power and prove his manhood. Those women, always making trouble.

Ramses gives a stunning speech in which he explains the ten plagues in the most rational way possible. Look, you get dead frogs and sure, flies come next. What’s the big miracle there? If you’re an atheist or agnostic, the Pharoah is something of a sympathetic character, but he gets beaten down quite badly in the end. Too bad.

Brian Dunning did a podcast on Skeptoid asking, “Did Jewish Slaves Build the Pyramids?” The short answer is no, they didn’t. And the pyramids most likely weren’t even built by slaves. So the basis for this entire tale of Moses has, unsurprisingly, no historical evidence to back it up. Dunning also points out that the story is somewhat insulting to Jews and Egyptians, casting them falsely as victims and oppressors.

I find myself somewhat excited to share the religious meaning of these holidays–and to put them in the context of history–with my son as he gets older. Because my own parents were agnostic, I was brought up viewing the Easter and Passover stories as legends or metaphors, or at the very least not entirely historically accurate. That still didn’t stop the whole Egypt thing from being pretty terrifying. I mean, if you disobey, God will really, seriously kill you, no joke. He’s a badass. Gives one pause, for sure, as I’m sure it is meant to do.

I know this is a big question for secular parents: how do we present these holidays to our kids? For me, age appropriate honesty feels right, but I don’t know how much my son is going to understand, so I’m not sure which details to start with. And he’ll probably get all this from somewhere else anyway and come ask me. “So Easter isn’t just about the bunny?” And then where to begin?

I loved seeing his face when he found all the eggs, though. I didn’t grow up with religion, so for me, this is all holidays have ever been: mornings where special stuff gets left for you! Love it.

Yes, Wal-Mart—every recession-affected person has been there at least once this week, I guarantee you, and we, as a family, are no exception. We were there for, I think, ice cream and diapers, and ended up with a cartful of items that gave us a receipt of $180.00 and looks of bewilderment. Where the hell did all that money go?

In this bewildered state, we didn’t notice the woman barreling toward us, a look of ecstasy on her face, a lightness in her step. She stopped right in front of us, making us stop, and we were in shock at what happened next.

“Oh, sweeeeet baby,” she cooed over our daughter. We smiled that first-time-parent smile.

“Thank you,” I responded. “She’s 15 weeks old.”

“Dear Jesus!” the woman cried out, raising her hand over my precious baby LuLu, closing her eyes, and shaking her hips. I froze. My husband froze. I’m pretty sure my eyes got huge. LuLu just sort of drooled all over her “future president” onesie and smiled. “Protect this baby! Guide her and love her.” She started jumping up and down. “Keep her under your wing…”

And so on.

I won’t bore you with the inane details of this interaction. There wasn’t much I could do, considering I was still thinking $180!? Really? Maybe there are drugs in the air vents they spray on unsuspecting customers that make you become an impulse-driven shopper. We just slowly walked away after the prayer was over and continued on our way.

Looking back, I’m not sure if we did the right thing. For the sake of everyone involved, I suppose what we did was the most efficient way to keep the peace, but I was stunned. Really. What made her think she had the right to just “pray” over my child? Why did I think the responsibility fell on me to keep the peace when she clearly saw nothing wrong with making a spectacle out of my child?

There was no force involved. I could have walked away. I could have yelled. I could have quietly asked her to stop. I could have gotten into a heated debate over whether her god even exists.

But I didn’t. I just smiled after the prayer was over and walked away to the car, mindful that I had ice cream that would melt if I didn’t get it home.

My mind started racing, trying to grasp all the problems inherent in the situation. What made her think she could invade my space? What made her think we wouldn’t mind her praying? What made her think we were Christians? Why is she praying to some god to protect my daughter? Isn’t this god omnipotent already? And omniscient? Petition prayers aren’t going to change His mind. And if this god exists and is omniscient and omnipotent, then we can’t have free will, which means your prayer, along with everything else you do, is totally meaningless. And since life is totally meaningless, but you’re believing in this god to give meaning to your life that otherwise isn’t there, then aren’t just you ending up where you started—meaninglessness? Oh, damn! My ice cream melted!

Sometimes I wonder how often people have stopped and actually thought about and analyzed what they believe in. It’s important to do this because, even though it’s a measure of our integrity to do so, belief causes behavior. From start to finish, sans shallow platitudes and ambiguous terms like “mystery” and “spiritual discernment,” how many people have really thought their faith-based beliefs through? And it’s not that we’ll ever really reach a conclusion, a definitive conclusion that gives us the autonomy and authority to say “case closed” about really big questions—like about the origins of the universe or how Wal-Mart secretly motivates you to spend $180 per trip—but we have to do better than simply accepting what’s been force-fed to us from childhood and not only unthinkingly repeating the process in adulthood, but also thinking it’s what everyone else believes.

Now, juiced-up lady, I get that religion as cultural expression grants social cohesion and identity to various individuals and thus groups of people, that it makes you feel good, but to expect that the person in front of you at Wal-Mart believes in the same god you do, and that you have the authority to interact with their child in some religion-based manner, is sort of arrogant and ignorant simultaneously. And it left me in quite the pickle. Do I engage you in some religious debate? Do I ask you for empirical evidence regarding your deity’s existence? Do I question how you’ve alleviated the age-old contradiction of omniscience and free will? Should I ask you how you find it ethically acceptable to stop random strangers in a Wal-Mart and pray over their kid?

No. I’ll simply ask you—later, in a blog post that you’ll probably never read—to be mindful of your own beliefs, to analyze them, question them, and then to be mindful of others’ beliefs and personal space, that maybe there are people who have not accepted that your god exists, who would not appreciate your prayers, and who have to get home to put their ice cream away before it melts.

Here’s some background for you: Little Skeptic Boy is five, has four wiggly teeth, and wants Hulk Smash Hands for Christmas. He loves science, as do I, so the other day we had a detailed discussion about the big bang. Next year he starts public school kindergarten, but for now he attends one of the highest-rated preschools in the area, that just happens to be at a Lutheran church in the bible belt. Then today we had this conversation:

Little Skeptic Boy: My teacher said it, but she’s wrong!!

Me: Said what, baby?

LSB: She said there was no big bang. She said that God created the universe. But she’s wrong and you’re right!

Me: Uhhhhh…

OK, now let’s not freak out here. Maybe his version of the conversation isn’t exactly what happened. After all he’s only five, and not a reliable witness. Maybe he shouted out that the big bang created the universe, and she replied along the lines of, “Well, the big bang didn’t create the universe, God did.”

Wait, is that any better?

So, it looks like I have three choices. I can take him out of the preschool, which would break his heart. I can do nothing, leave him in the preschool, and deprogram him later. Or I can have a talk with his teacher.

I don’t know, though. What might come out of my mouth?

• “How dare you lie to my child about the basic foundations of physics?”
• “So, are you guys young-earthers? ‘Cause that’s crazy!”
• “Feel free to teach my kid all about the bible, but don’t ever contradict me again.”

Now, if this were public school, I’d be absolutely up in arms. But, this is a private preschool that I chose, and if I’m not happy with it, we can leave. Or we can ignore this and go on. After all, he’s so young he probably won’t remember anything he learns there. Or…

Am I overreacting?

I feel better about the carols than I do about Santa, actually. Unlike a lot of atheists, I didn’t have to reject religion or ever come to terms with the idea that Jesus might not be an actual historical figure. My dad is a staunch atheist, and so was his dad. So I got this message about the whole Jesus story from ‘git go, as we say in the South: it’s metaphor, and most of it is the same as a lot of other myths—the whole virgin birth thing, etc. And Christmas itself is a pagan holiday adapted to Christianity—oh, we got the whole explanation quite early.

Now Santa, on the other hand, was totally real, until I was five and figured his game out. Then Mom broke it to me that there was no actual Santa but there was a “spirit of giving.” By the way, I don’t think the spirit of giving is a good substitute, to a five-year-old’s literalist mind. For a couple years there I thought there was a dude in a white sheet, like a Halloween ghost, who did…something vaguely related to Christmas and generosity. But nice try, Mom.

But the Jesus story was always a pretend story in my house, and so the music has always been really beautiful music about this great story. And so I find myself very moved by it. The whole idea of the “tender and mild” infant who is really a great king in heaven—it’s fantastic. And it’s even more moving this year, as I sit around listening to it with my own tender and mild infant.

I have to add here, since there have been a few atheist posts, that not all of our contributors are atheists, and I certainly don’t think you need to be an atheist to be rational. In fact, my brother is sitting around with his kids, at this time of year, and the carols and the story are going to be more real for them, because my brother met a really cute Catholic girl about ten years ago, and he decided he believed.

But still, raising kids as critical thinkers just can’t be a lost lesson, as a conversation between my brother and his fellow church goers demonstrates:

My brother: So, do you guys actually believe in like, angels and the devil?

Other church folks: Yep, scripture supports it.

My brother: But isn’t that polytheism?

Other church folks: No, because God is the main god.

My brother: Yeah, but Father Odin was the main god, too, you know?

Other church folks: Well, good night! See you next week!

So my brother might be might be bringing the kids up Christian, but it still might be largely metaphor and myth, in his household.

There’s a certain bliss in allowing my kids to remain ignorant of the existence of religion, but they’re going to hear about it from their friends eventually. And I’ve read lots of personal accounts of people whose parents just never really taught them anything about religion either way. Some of these folks — when they finally encounter religion — are astonished to discover that people can really believe such stories are true and real. Others are enchanted by religion (or other woo ) when they first encounter it as teen or adult. So, ultimately, I feel like it’s something I should talk to my kids about in the home.

So far I haven’t fared so well. We taught them a little about their Catholic heritage while visiting their great aunt, a nun, in Lourdes, but (as you’ll see if you read that story ), I balked when faced with trying to explain Jesus to them. More recently, I expected the subject would come up while visiting my own Mormon and Christian family this past summer, but it didn’t. On some level, our situation seems more ideal than Laurie T.’s (where religion comes up in school ), but, on the other hand, it sounds nice to have some natural context (like in Laurie T and LSG’s case ) for the child to bring the subject up.

Anyway, all of that is just background to explain how the subject of Jesus finally came up in our house!

I was watching this hilarious video when my little 5-y.o. Léo came in to see what it was:

After watching, he wanted me to point out who “cheetah” is. At first I thought he was talking about the guy in the tiger-print shirt, until Léo explained, “Someone called him ‘cheetah.’”

“Ah, you mean Jesus,” I said.

Rainbow folks: And our love is not a sin!
Religious Right: Well the Bible says it’s so.
Jesus: [appears miraculously] Well, the Bible says a lot of things, y’know.
All: Jesus Christ!
Jesus: Hey, how’s it going?

We watched it a few times, and Leo loved the part where Jesus appeared magically to do a musical number, and pointed out that He came back for the finale after He’d left.

Well, it’s not exactly Schoolhouse Rock, but that little musical is actually a pretty good (and fun!) introduction to Christianity and to the role religion plays in our society…

LSG: “That’s pretty music!”

Me: “Yes, it’s from the bells in that church.”

LSG: “Mommy, do we not go to church because there are no churches around here that teach what we believe, or do we not go to church because there are no churches that teach what we believe?”

Me: “I guess the answer to that is that no church teaches what Daddy and I believe. There are many, many different kinds of churches in the world, and they all teach different things. My question is, which is right? And who am I to say which is right? The one thing most of them have in common is they teach that there is a supernatural being who has power over this world and the people in it. I decided a long time ago that I don’t believe there is a supernatural being who has power over the world. I believe the world is explained by science, and I don’t need to explain what I don’t understand by claiming it is because of a supernatural being. But Daddy and I want you to learn as much as you can and decide for yourself when you get older what it is you believe.”

LSG: “Yeah, because I remember learning in preschool that God used to talk to Moses and Noah all the time, but now you can only talk to God through prayer, and He never answers you out loud. And I thought, that doesn’t make any sense!”