The Day I Invented a Religion for My Children

One parent’s solution to her children’s religious questions

In my journey as a parent I was inevitably confronted with my fraught relationship with religion. Most of my kids’ friends come from Christian homes, with different degrees of religious fervor. At some point (I believe it was around first grade) they both came to me with questions about religion. “Who is God?” “Who is Jesus?”

This created a big challenge for me.

To explain: I grew up in a Russian Orthodox-Christian community, within a Catholic country. I experienced Catholic mass every Friday in school, and Russian mass every other Sunday in Church. Religion was a big component of my life. There were a lot of positives in it — a sense of community, a sense of purpose, moral values, a sense of belonging, a framework for understanding the Universe.

There were also a lot of negatives. It is hard to convey to an Atheist who’s never experienced religion what it’s like to grow up with the belief, the conviction that there is a Devil. The Devil was an immortal, tireless entity nearly as powerful as God himself. The Devil’s sole purpose was to ruin my life, and get me to Hell — a place of eternal damnation and suffering. What chance did I really have, as an eight-year old kid, against such a foe? Would the Angels be always on watch? What if one of them dozed off? I’m not being facetious. There was a tangible fear.

When I arrived at puberty, and my sexuality began to evidence itself, my relationship with religion became a LOT more problematic.

Not only was I indulging in “sins of the flesh,” but I was becoming increasingly aware that I was not “normal,” not what God would approve of. This led me to carry an intense sense of shame and self-loathing. (As I grew older I would eventually understand myself first as pansexual, then as transgender.)

As a teenager, I also started finding so many credibility problems with the Christian narrative that my rational mind couldn’t cope. My Grandfather simply would say, “the moment you let such questions into your mind, the Devil has entered your heart.” I couldn’t help but think, “if your cosmology is so fragile that it cannot endure questions, what good is it?”

Escaping from the stifling paradigm of Christianity, I went through Buddhism, Eastern Mysticism, new religious movements. Unfortunately, I was swallowed up by a cult, and it greatly derailed my life for over a decade.

With this background, let’s go back to my kids.

My goal had originally been to steer clear of religion, allow them to form their own opinions. But I found myself incapable of that. I found myself making sarcastic remarks, belittling religion. And I decided that’s not the parent I want to be. So once, on a long drive (our first ski trip, actually) I brought up the subject of religion. Both kids were eager to discuss it, so I leaned into an analogy. (“…and she spoke to them in parables…” LOL.)

“Ok,” I said. “There is a God. His name is Fluffy Bunny, and He sits on the roof of our car. You can’t see him, because you can’t reach — but I know He’s there.”

Now both kids were in. Intrigued, amused, happy to play along.

“Fluffy bunny is All-Knowing. He knows what’s in your hearts, and He’s all-powerful, and He knows best.”

Both of them nodded.

“Fluffy Bunny speaks through me. I am His emissary and His messenger.” Again, the kids happily agreed.

“Fluffy Bunny wants you to be good, to do your homework, and to behave during the car ride,” I said. Nods, again.

I rattled off some more fatwas. Then, I made it interesting.

“Evan, Fluffy Bunny demands that you call Emma a boogerhead.”

Evan ate this up. “Boogerhead,” he said, laughing. Emma looks somewhat amused, but puzzled.

“Oh, and Emma, Fluffy Bunny wants you to punch Evan. Hard.”

Both kids challenged that. A mixture of amusement, bewilderment and skepticism.

“You cannot defy the will of Fluffy Bunny, our God,” I said. “Evan is a sinner, and he deserves punishment.”

Now they both rose in open rebellion.

I invited them to consider what was happening. Were they to follow blind faith with blind obedience? But, isn’t punching someone just wrong? Was Fluffy Bunny a bad God? Was God’s emissary lying?

This led to a fascinating debate about all the ways religion could go wrong, and all the ways religion could become toxic.

We had a lively, hilarious discussion. It led to deep philosophical ponderings — such as, the affinity they felt for this self-appointed messenger of God, which allowed them to embrace Fluffy Bunny. We discussed magical thinking, personal accountability vs. surrender to a deity, and on and on.

Eventually, the upshot was that they rose in open rebellion against our God. But, hilariously (and poignantly), instead of denying the existence of Fluffy Bunny, they came up with their own New Testament: Fluffy Bunny slid off the roof of our car, and got ran over by oncoming traffic. This was the end of Fluffy Bunny, and the dawn of a new era.

We laughed and laughed. And I was enormously satisfied with the result of the exercise.

My children now grow older. They have compassion and empathy for the beliefs of other families, but they keep a healthy distance from magical thinking. And they’re happy, ethical, loving human beings.