…then don’t lie to them. It’s possible you don’t know that community too well yet, but one you would mesh with is–I’m relatively certain–one that would accept you regardless.

I grew up relatively agnostic (though with a fascination with biblical stories), but also thankfully did so in a large Reform Jewish congregation, and one where you could see every stripe of devoutness, from atheist to the Rabbi.

To retell an account of my mother’s experience, a little background is needed: she’s an agnostic atheist as well, but took Adult Confirmation classes and attended Dinners With the Rabbi out of personal interest–and tended to know more Torah than anyone outside of the Rabbi there In fact, she was raised Methodist and converted when she married my father… (which explains it somewhat, as they tend to take more interest in the specifics of the faith than those raised in it).

At any rate, at one Dinner With the Rabbi, conversation led around to a show of hands as to who “did not believe in God.” She raised hers, another raised his (which did not surprise me), but even _I_ was surprised by one of the hands… It was one of the four or five people who commonly wrote the Torah interpretations each month for the newsletter! (My mother was the editor of the newsletter from the beginning, and one of the founding members of the temple. I put together the newsletter myself for a while, too, when she couldn’t.)

One of the women there was damn near sputtering “…but, but… WHY?” but the Rabbi himself seemed to know, and certainly the conversation remained theological, but never browbeating. No one’s position in the Temple was compromised (the other hand I was not surprised to see had been both a Brotherhood and Temple president, and shows up at the Soup Kitchen every month, and was another founding member), no one’s Torah interpretations were pulled, and aside from one or two examples, people nodded and followed the dinner discussion. No one was directly preached to or proselyted to… it was simply an expected part of the community.

Back to your own experience, I know you probably don’t know them all that well yet, but your options are not “lying to them” or “not joining them.” Speak the truth (perhaps first in private to the Minister, if you want to keep it personal and “test the water” first, such as it were), and offhand I think if it’s a community you really WOULD want to join… they’ll embrace your wanting to be part of the community, rather than excoriate your current theological stances.

If they do…? Well, you have your answer much more directly. Same with if they simply want to overtly proselytize and “save” you. No loss there, since I don’t think you would be comfortable in such a community to begin with.

The strictest don’t allow you to take communion unless you are confirmed in that specific church; even if you belong to the same synod as the church you’re attending, you can’t take communion if it’s not the church you’re a member of.

The most “liberal” of the 3 synods I know of pretty much have open communion: anyone can take communion, no questions asked.

And the last synod is like the one you describe, where you just have to be a confirmed Lutheran to take communion. They also tend to bend the rules, typically allowing Catholics to take communion as well (or at least the pastor I spoke with does), or anyone that the pastor can talk to and make sure understands and believes in the general Lutheran view of communion.

(I would have sent you this on your own blog since I’m veering off-topic, but didn’t see a “contact” button, sorry if I missed it)

The Lutherans here in the US don’t allow you to take communion in their churches unless you are a baptised, and confirmed Lutheran. I’m an ex-Catholic, and attended Episcopalian churches for awhile, Methodist, a four-square gospel church, then a Lutheran church (where I was never made to feel as unwelcome as I was there). The Lutherans are in their own way as strict as Catholics.

Thanks for the reference to Unitarian Universalism, my wife and I stopped tradition church going a while back and this place looks pretty interesting.

Consider a few alternatives. You love having a community, but don’t have the faith that the Christians require. Is there a Unitarian church in your area? That sounds like just the right place for you right now.

This is from their website: “Unitarian Universalism is a caring, open-minded religion that encourages you to seek your own spiritual path. Our Faith draws on many religious traditions, welcoming people with different beliefs. We are united by shared values, not by creed or dogma. Our congregations are places where people gather to nurture their spirits and put their faith into action by helping to make our communities—and the world—a better place.” My Mom’s a Unitarian, so I see a lot of what goes on, there’s community, music, social activism, even potlucks! All the “church stuff” minus the dogma.

If you have an Ethical Society in your area, that might also work. It also has the sense of community, but belief in the supernatural is optional.

This part -

You don’t have to swear by The God Delusion to join our club–you just have to desire membership. The same cannot be said of religion. If I don’t accept Jesus as my personal savior and conform to a specific set of moral beliefs, I can never really be considered a member of the Christian community.

- pretty much explains it.

Now, I wonder – should I keep going to church, considering that I still believe in God? Considering that I’m still open to a convincing argument for Jesus and the Bible? Or, considering the pain of being left out during the high point of community during the service, should I find something else to do on Sunday?

I’ve secretly stopped attending Sunday services at the megachurch where I work (like anyone would notice) and started attending at this tiny little Lutheran church in another part of the city. Why?

1. If I ever become a Christian again, this seems to be the denomination that has a view similar to my ‘Your salvation is ultimately your and God’s business, so I’m not going to poke my nose in it’ view. They also focus more on social justice and helping fellow humans. (I don’t know how the Lutherans are in your country, but here, they’re all right.)
2. It reminds me of where I grew up. I like the community.

There is one moment during the service, however, when I feel very lonely: communion.

It isn’t like Catholic churches where they line up and then go back to their seats, or like the newer churches where they stay in their seats and the bread and wine comes to them. At this church, they all kneel or stand around the altar, and the pastor and his assistants go down the line, praying over children and distributing the elements to the adults. Everyone dined together. It wasn’t just communion with God, but communion with the community of God.

I really wanted that, but I felt it wouldn’t be right, considering that I no longer recognize the significance of the bread and wine. It’s not so much out of a fear of a certain teaching (taking communion while disbelieving must be condemned) but out of respect for those who still believe.

That afternoon, I wondered if the sense of community alone were worth a return to Christianity. But as much as I’d like to be part of the club again, I know I can only be a Christian if I truly believe, again, that Jesus is the Christ and the Bible the Word of God. I feel that joining for friends is about as false as joining out of fear of hell. And I don’t like the idea of having to lie to my newfound family during whatever induction ceremony might be held.