Holier than thou. No chance....

Our oldest boy Daniel is currently getting quite extensive religious training in anticipation of his First Holy Communion, which he makes during this term.
This involves him colouring in a host of pictures of Jesus (orange curly hair, bushy beard, white t-shirt), learning a load of prayers off by heart and thanking God for a whole host of things which he apparently invented – like time, water Playstations and shoes.
This religious work involves bringing his ‘God book’ home and asking us to answer questions on various religion-related topics, something I find rather daunting.
Now I’m not one for wearing my religious views and opinions on my sleeve but the fact is despite being brought up a Catholic I have lapsed a little in my faith.
In years gone by I went to mass, said my prayers religiously, was (and still am) a good, kind, caring and loving person. I have sky-high morals, put people high above material things, love my neighbour and have never coveted goods, wives or things of that ilk.
I only ever asked for God’s assistance twice in my life. Both were big deal situations – I needed a miracle – but despite a lot of prayers, the big man didn’t hear my distress call and I suppose we haven’t been in contact for a while.
When I was a child I found mass – and I’m being brutally honest here – incredibly boring. It was a whole lot of chanting, kneeling, standing up, sitting down and a bit of repetitive praying. The smell of incense would make me nauseous and I resented shaking hands with the person sitting next to me after watching them pick their nose just 10 minutes before. I went to mass only because I felt my mother would kill me if I didn’t.
I honestly didn’t get a lot out of it. My parents taught me life lessons, morals, tolerance and compassion. I certainly didn’t learn those things at Mass as I spent a most of my time standing outside the Church chatting.
I know I’m not alone on my views. Whilst the older generation is mostly made up of God fearing church goers, my generation seem to be falling away from religion in their droves. This is not because we are a band of morally challenged yahoos, more that organised religion hasn’t really evolved in a way which speaks to us.
Therefore I’m going to find it difficult teaching my young sons about religion this term. Partly because I am void of blind faith and the fact that a lot of it is totally bewildering.
Already this week we have learned that God is THE most important person in his life, not Spiderman, not Red Power Ranger, not even me. The big man is more important. And he has been instructed to put God before all things and all people from now on. As always in religion there were no actually written instructions as to how exactly to carry out this task. I suggested that instead of fighting with his brother or wrecking the living room they might both spend a few hours praying quietly to God.
My kids have experience of many different religions. Our own extended family are deeply religious and it works for them. We have Japanese friends whose religion dictates that they pray before everything they do – even giving long and lengthy praise before allowing us to eat our Happy Meals at McDonalds. A small child of one of our Indian friends once told us that we like the ‘wrong God’ when he spotted the Sacred Heart picture on the wall. Each to their own I say, no one is more right than anyone else.
So now my son is starting his journey into his religion and needs me to hold his hand along the road. I believe it's important that he has an open mind, and when he’s old enough, to make those decisions for himself, without my or anyone else’s dogma running around in his head, and I will support any decision his makes on the matter.
Rant over, Amen.