I never thought I had the choice in what I believe or don’t believe in.  I always thought my parents decided for me.  It wasn’t until last year -in my religion 11 class with Mrs. Pereira in room 211 that I realized it was my choice.

            “In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit, amen,” was mumbled by the twenty students and one teacher that fulfilled the classroom.  When I saw my classmates put absolutely no effort or emotion into the sign of the cross, I realized how robotic this gesture was.  I was taught I have to make the sign of the cross with my right hand, as well as letting the “body of christ” get placed into my left hand then gripping it with my right; otherwise, I’m disobeying the church rules. 

The church tries to emphasize individuality but with all of its rules, it seems like its more shaped around conformity.  The words, “Our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name…” continued captivating the room.  Again there was more robotic, insincere, mumbling.   I sat there thinking about how little religion plays a role in my life and if it does at all.  I grew up being told that I’m Catholic yet I was never brought to church, not even on holidays. 

Maybe it was just a label, maybe it was just so that I’d fit in at my religious elementary school.  Or maybe it was just to get that little detail out of the way of what religion I’d grow up being.  Parents always make a big deal about what religion their child will be raised in.  Will I be a church going- pray every hour- seven year old saint, or will I be a ground waiting- no beliefs- atheist?  Luckily, my parents chose the more positive one.  But now that I’m seventeen and have been exposed to different beliefs, I don’t consider myself Catholic.  Catholics go to church, pray at least once a day, and put effort into the catholic motions such as making the sign of the cross. 

            Within these five reflective minutes of prayer, I decided I don’t want people influencing my beliefs.  I want to choose what I believe, don’t believe, or if I even have any beliefs.  To be honest, I don’t even think they are good things to possess.  I started to think about how being open-minded sounds 100 times better than having set beliefs.  I realized that I could have opinions and interpret other people’s beliefs, whereas if I stated my beliefs then went against them, I would be questioned and interrogated.  To have opinions, I can change my mind and no one will have to question it. 

People change their minds all the time but never their beliefs.  Not unless there was something that triggered the reasons you believed in it.  For example, I always believed my Pepere was going to live forever, as crazy as that may seem. He was 99 and faced many health related obstacles, but he was my Pepere so nothing could ever happen to him.  Once he died I started believing that bad things happened to great people.  Months later, I just started to believe that everything happens for a reason and it was just meant to be that he died.  Now I just think that it’s what was supposed to happen, if it hadn’t, great, but it happened so I need to move on; life happens, I concluded.

            In all honesty, I feel bad for people who retain beliefs because they will never be open to any other opinion about whatever it is they believe in.  They will be hardheaded rather than open minded, stubborn instead of laid back, and argumentative rather than conversational.  

            As prayer came to a close, I knew my views have changed on religion and beliefs themselves.  I wasn’t going to act like I believed in Catholicism just to please my parents.  Being the person I am, I knew I was going to think as I pleased.  The class continued as did my thoughts of beliefs being unnecessary and no longer a part of my mindset.