Continuing the conversations from here and here, I received this email from an atheist who teaches at a Christian school.

If you’d like to share your experience as an atheist in a Christian workplace, please shoot me an email.

…

I met my husband in church. We had both been raised in fairly conservative, Bible-believing homes. Our parents are well-educated, though, and always encouraged us to think for ourselves. By the time we met, we were both fairly liberal in our political beliefs but very involved in our church life. We soon moved to New York City so my husband could pursue graduate school. At the time, I taught physics at a public high school. We attended a local megachurch, but as soon as we finished premarital counseling we stopped attending. (That is the wonderful part about megachurches — they are so easy to leave!) We also moved in together a few months before our marriage, unbeknownst to our parents.

A couple of years after getting married, my husband was accepted to law school in Florida. I had to leave my teaching job and search for a new one — the problem was that I had to look for a job at a private school because I did not have a teaching license in this new state and it was going to be prohibitively difficult to get one — about a year’s worth of classwork and hoops to jump through. My husband and I only plan on staying in Florida for his three years of law school after which we will relocate back to NYC.

I applied to a conservative Christian school, as they seemed very dedicated to their education and it was a good position. I still considered myself a Christian at that point and I had once been conservative… so I figured that it wouldn’t be so bad for three years.

Well, by about the third week of classes I realized that I just couldn’t convince myself of my faith anymore. I had read a lot of Brian McLaren‘s work and a little of Rob Bell‘s, and these paved the way for me to stop taking the Bible very seriously. My science background had me doubting the reliability of the entire book of Genesis. I think it was finally seeing the way that young people are indoctrinated into the faith that finally forced my visceral rejection of my faith.

For months, I still believed that Christianity was real and that I had simply rejected it. I kept on waiting for the principal to call me into his office and ask me to pack up my things — I figured that if I was a mole in a Christian workplace, God would promptly inform his leadership of my presence and they would root me out. No such thing happened. In fact, I received glowing praise — all the while, I was desperate to quit and find work elsewhere. Unfortunately, not a single job was available this spring when I looked. We are in a small college town and there aren’t a lot of options. I would quit if I did not have to support myself and my husband while he is in school.

I began reading books by Richard Dawkins, Christopher Hitchens, Sam Harris and Bart Ehrman. (Somehow Daniel Dennett got the boot for Ehrman ) I was fascinated at the idea of redaction criticism and some of the theories behind the formation of the Jewish religion, the Israelite people, and Hebrew Bible. I read voraciously and I listened to all of Reasonable Doubts’ podcasts. It took me about five months from my first epiphany about rejecting Christianity to be able to admit to myself that I was an atheist. It still feels weird.

It was rough at school for a while, but I have settled into a routine. I do feel like a two-faced liar at times, but most of the time I really go out of my way to say “Many Christians believe this…” when I have to talk about faith. I never talk about my personal faith and I don’t think the kids even notice it because they get it from so many other places they just assume I’m a Christian. I do my best to teach critical thinking skills and ethics without ever teaching something that goes against the school’s principles. The school itself is conservative (politically and doctrinally) but they also care a lot about education. That is one redeeming factor that helps me continue to show up every day.

I do have a handful of stories I have been writing down in case I ever want to share them in a more organized manner. They include teachers telling me that they are glad they believe in God and hell because otherwise they would do all kinds of awful things, hearing a 6^th grader at a football game scoff at the local Jewish team because, “They don’t believe Jesus is the savior… what bullcrap… how can they believe that?” When a sibling was killed in a car crash, our teachers consoled one student by telling him that God “preordained” it. It may not make sense to us, but then again, “God’s ways are above our ways.” What tripe.

I have resigned myself to the fact that I will stay here for the next two years and I will get out only when we move back to the Northeast. I have almost become cognitively dissonant in the way that I approach my job, to the point that I actually enjoy a lot of it now (while still hating a very few parts, and my duplicity). I am thankful that I still have employable job skills and am gaining more valuable experience… I really feel for clergy members that have to stand up in front of their church every Sunday and preach something they don’t believe. I plan on contributing to the Clergy Project as soon as I stop supporting my husband and his education.

Ex-pastor Jerry DeWitt, the first graduate of the Clergy Project, is working through that transition period between making a living (and lying) behind the pulpit and finding work outside of the church world. The Kansas City Atheist Coalition is chipping in to help him out and they’ve already raised a significant amount, but you can chip in here if you find it worthwhile (and I hope you do):

Continuing the conversation from before, I received this email from an atheist who worked for a church nursery. If you’d like to share your experience as an atheist in a Christian workplace, please shoot me an email.

…

When I was 16, I started working at a church nursery. At the time I was a junior in high school and I was still an ardent Christian. They started me as a floater and teaching assistant. I was put in whatever room needed the most help that Sunday or Wednesday. After a few months as a paid employee, I found out that the lead teacher in the 3-year-old room was leaving, so I was asked to be the lead teacher.

I left this church after 3 years of service still only making $7.50/hour when I knew that other churches paid their lead teachers at least $10. The congregation was in general very judgmental and unwilling to help in the nursery when we needed it. The quality of care went down because of this. So I got a different job working at a smaller church. This other church was closer to home, started me out at $10/hour, and the people were much nicer. Of course, by the time I took that job my problems became personal. I had been questioning my beliefs for a long time. Aside from the initial background check and the application I had to fill out, after working for about 6 weeks they handed me another form I had to fill out. This was the beginning of my personal problems with the job.

The first page of this form had you fill out the basics (name, number, address, etc.), but then at the bottom it had a long list of dogmatic claims and asked you to check any and all that you believed.

The second page was simply for you to list or explain what other ministerial work you’ve done, such as mission trips and the like. The last page was the one that surprised me. It was basically a questionnaire about which “sins” I had committed.

One question asked “Have you ever had a homosexual experience? Yes___ No___ If yes, please explain below:”

I didn’t see how this was relevant to my job at all. I’m bisexual, and at the time I was finally starting to accept that part of myself. I had had homosexual experiences before, but I was not about to tell that to my employers when it was none of their business. There were similar questions about smoking or drinking. It also had a question about pre-/extra- marital sex. I never turned in this form. In fact, I think I threw it away.

The first page was insulting to me, because it reduced what little beliefs I still had in Christianity to a mere checklist, and implied that if I don’t fit the whole checklist then I may not be fit to work there. The second page was insulting to me because it wouldn’t let me list any extra-curricular activities that weren’t specifically linked with church. I spent most of my time in high school in band, practicing, performing and helping teach the younger students, yet I could not use that teaching/leadership experience on the form. The last page, where I was asked to list and confess to “sins” that had nothing to do with my employment, was insulting and intrusive.

I worked for this church as the lead teacher in the 3-year-old room for almost three years. I loved teaching the children. The rest of my week I spent as a server at a restaurant or at school, so those kids were the highlight of my week. At this job, I was paid more, but I also had more responsibilities. I was in charge (mostly) of the curriculum. I put together the lessons for each Sunday morning and Wednesday night. I set the schedule for the day and put the crafts and snacks together. I had to stay a few weeks ahead so I could list my supplies for my boss. I also had to keep up with the bulletins (inside and outside the class) and attendance. When a child hadn’t attended for three weeks, I would send a letter to their parents. It was a lot of work but I still loved it… until I stopped believing.

It had been a long time coming. Over the course of my 3 years there, I went from liberal Christian to deist to agnostic to atheist. The last year there was the hardest. I felt trapped and alone. I didn’t tell anybody I was an atheist — no friends or family, not even my boyfriend. I had spirited, anonymous, debates online. I had always loved debating, and I had been debating Christianity and belief in god since I was about 11 or 12, but now I was on the other side.

Every day I worked there felt like a lie. At first, I tried to hide it by diving deeper into the work. I would come up during the week and work on lessons, months in advance. I would come up with intricate crafts and games to teach the kids. I always tried to find a way to link the Bible story to real life problems. I started almost completely omitting god, even in the songs we sang. One particular lesson that stands out in my memory was the one I taught of Moses’ sister watching over him while he was floating down the river in the reed basket. The curriculum I worked from wanted me to stress that god watches over them the same way Miriam watched over Moses, but it didn’t feel genuine to me. The kids can puppet-talk about god if you prompt them, but that day I changed the discussion. I opened it with this question: Who looks after you and takes care of you?

The children’s answers were: mom, dad, my sisters, my brothers, my aunts, my uncles, grandma and grandpa, my teachers. I just smiled and we had a long discussion about how each person looks after them. This was one of the first times I had changed the lesson to talk about their daily life instead of the abstract concept of god. The children loved it and I felt better. I had been torturing myself for months. When I first became an atheist, I was angry about the indoctrination that I had been put through as a child. I was just like these 3-year-olds. I didn’t want to be a part of their indoctrination. What would they think of me if they grew up and shed their beliefs as well? Would they remember me as a kind and good teacher, or would they resent me for being a part of the system that indoctrinated them? What of the parents that I sent letters to for low attendance? Are they still believers? Would they think I was just trying to coerce them into coming back to church?

I couldn’t come out as an atheist to my boss though. She’s friends with my mother. She is possibly the nicest person I’ve ever met, so I don’t think she would have judged me or thought badly about me, but I knew she would tell my mother. I was not ready to have that conversation with my mother yet. I finally quit, but I was able to use school as an excuse. I was taking journalism classes and most of the work was done outside of class time, so I didn’t have time for two jobs. I still miss the kids, and I miss teaching. If I could work at a secular preschool and have time for school, I would do it. I count myself lucky that I got out when I was young. If I felt trapped at the age of 22 and it was just my part-time job, then how must a middle-aged pastor who’s never done anything else feel?

The advice I would give to those in this situation is to make the best of it while you’re there, but search for a way out. Find a friend or family member in whom you can confide. They can help you and lend support when you need it. Mine was my boyfriend. He knew what I was going through, since he had become an atheist while studying at a Bible college.

My advice for everybody else is to support the Clergy Project.

Ex-Pastors Teresa MacBain and Jerry DeWitt appeared on NPR’s Talk of the Nation on Monday to discuss how and why they left their faiths. The audio and transcript are now available. Here’s one of the happier moments:

[Host] Neil Conan: Was there a moment when you decided you had to come clean about your beliefs?

Jerry DeWitt: Yeah, there actually was. It came for me — I began to realize that there was no way that I could live a satisfying life without ministering to someone. I had been in the ministry for 25 years, growing up in the Pentecostal Church, and as I tried to take on just a secular lifestyle, I realized that being a minister is who I am.

And so I had made connections through the Clergy Project and had a connection with an organization called Recovering from Religion. And I said that’s the people I’m going to minister to now, fellow clergy who don’t believe, people who are trying to move out of their religious experience. I’m going to minister to them, and that’s going to require a public commitment.

So at that moment, things begin to really get exciting.

…

While we’re on the subject, the Freedom From Religion Foundation is now allowing people to tag The Clergy Project when they make donations. The money will go specifically toward help ministers and clergy members who don’t believe in god anymore and who need a way out of the pulpit.

Funds donated to The Clergy Project will help meet many needs, including:

• Scholarships for educational retraining. It is hard for someone with a divinity degree and a history of preaching to find new employment, especially in today’s economy. Without an exit strategy that allows a minister to continue to provide for their family, it is nearly impossible to consider leaving the pulpit.
• Temporary hardship grants. Some of the clergy in the project tell heartbreaking stories of being unceremoniously thrown out into the street (literally, in one case!) and locked out when their nonbelief became known. Others who have voluntarily “graduated” to civilian life are finding it immensely difficult to land on their feet.
• Maintenance of the forum. The Clergy Project forum is a secret, invitation-only online sanctuary where former and active nonbelieving clergy can talk freely, comparing stories, suggesting resources, sharing concerns, asking for help, and finding a sympathetic nonjudgmental community of others who have wrestled with this unique situation.

If you’d like to contribute, you can do that here — just click on “Clergy Project” from the dropdown menu.

Brother Richard (Atheist Nexus), Jerry Dewitt (Recovering from Religion), and Ernest Perce V (American Atheists) all have backgrounds in the pulpit.

In the video below, they tell their stories:

As always, if you hear anything that needs to be spread, please leave the timestamp and summary in the comments!

The Clergy Project is getting some well-deserved attention in the press.

Barbara Bradley Hagerty tells the story of project director Teresa MacBain:

Her secret is taking a toll, eating at her conscience as she goes about her pastoral duties week after week — two sermons every Sunday, singing hymns, praying for the sick when she doesn’t believe in the God she’s praying to. She has had no one to talk to, at least not in her Christian community, so her iPhone has become her confessor, where she records her private fears and frustrations.

…

Moments later, in the darkened, cavernous conference room, MacBain steps onstage.

“My name is Teresa,” she begins. “I’m a pastor currently serving a Methodist church — at least up to this point” — the audience laughs — “and I am an atheist.”

Hundreds of people jump to their feet. They hoot and clap for more than a minute. MacBain then apologizes to them for being, as she put it, “a hater.”

…

MacBain tried to see the church’s district superintendent to explain, but he canceled the meeting. She was immediately locked out and replaced…

…

But MacBain did go home. People shunned her. Job interviews were canceled. The Humanists of Florida Association offered to pay her salary for a year, but there’s no guarantee. Only two of MacBain’s friends called her and took her to lunch…

Teresa has her family, but many pastors-turned-atheist don’t even have that.

It’s a more powerful story when you listen to Teresa speak for herself and you can do that here. The moment right after she declared her atheism at the American Atheists convention can be seen below:

Meanwhile, Kimberly Winston of Religion News Service profiles both Teresa and Jerry DeWitt, the first “graduate” of the Clergy Project:

Speaking in March before a cheering crowd of several hundred unbelievers at the American Atheists conference here, he described posting the picture [of himself with Richard Dawkins] as “committing identity suicide.”

The response was swift. His congregation put him out, friends cut him off and some family members will not speak to him, he said.

…

Today, DeWitt is the executive director of Recovering From Religion, a group that helps people — not just clergy — find their way after a loss of faith.

“Not only can you survive, but you can thrive through this process,” he said as the crowd erupted into applause.

You can see a part of Jerry’s speech from the American Atheist Convention below:

Keep in mind that neither Teresa nor Jerry have full-time jobs in the same way they used to. Their skills — as speakers, as (unlicensed) counselors, as motivators, as managers — are no longer being utilized.

One of the biggest challenges these ex-pastors face is trying to figure out what they can do with their life — to be fulfilled and to make money — now that they’ve left the ministry. The church isn’t about to help them — they prefer to take care of their own kind. And we don’t have atheist organizations flush with money that can provide job support or even loans to help the pastors get back on their feet. (Granted, in this economy, it can be hard for anyone to find work, period.)

If we want to see more members of the clergy come clean about their atheism, though, we have to give them a path out.

The Thinking Atheist compiled this collection of comments from people who declared their atheism, only to be ostracized or cut off in return:

If you’re able to declare your atheism to certain people without fear of reprisal, please do it. Do it for the people in the video. Do it so that pointing out the obvious stops coming with a penalty.