Posted: June 9, 2012 by Ty in Spirituality

National Post | Life

I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about religion. I don’t know if I ever did. My family was helmed by devout atheists: religion of any description was irrelevant. In fact, my mom commissioned a painter to make a 20-by-4 foot sign she lashed to our second-storey sun deck each December. In festive green and red, it proclaimed Bah! Humbug! She ringed it with Christmas lights. It was more her comment on commercialization but, for me, it was a bit like wearing a scarlet letter. Nine of ’em, in fact.


In high school, except for debates in the cafeteria at lunchtime — which generally pitted the Anglicans against the Unitarians — we devoted none of our towering intellects to the question of God. We followed the party line, voted with whatever our parents believed and begged to sleep in on Sunday mornings.

When it came to the subject…

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