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Losing My Religion
Christopher J. Tkach

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LOSING MY RELIGION

—Christopher J. Tkach

Pivotal moments in life can occur unexpectedly. Seemingly originating from nothing without reason, a synapse fires a chemical and a thought is created. Regularly unnoticed or irrelevant these thoughts are often dismissed. Every once in a while the thought springs forth that can change your life. I grew up three miles from NASA 's Jet Propulsion Laboratory, home to some of the most important spacecraft in history such as the Explorer one satellite, Voyager probe and the Mars rover program. I grew up in a community where most of my friend’s parents were in every sense of the word rocket scientist's. It was the early nineties, and I was ten years old. JPL was still riding the high from their successful Voyage probes that had encounters with the distant planets of our solar system. I could not help but be obsessed with astronomy. Like bottles of booze to an alcoholic astronomy books and TV shows were my ticket inebriation, and I was in the middle of a binge. I could not stop and guzzled down information like a drunken bride at a bachelorete party. I did not discriminate within the subject matter; as long as it happened in space, I wanted to know about it.

My room was a smorgasbord of browns: brown carpet, wooden trim, beige walls, a beige door, and wooden blinds that allowed light to enter the room as horizontal beams of light slicing their way through the bland colors to illuminate knowledge. My telescope sat in the corner waiting to be set outside so that it could show me the universe. The telescope wasn't very powerful, planets appeared as colored blurs, often their moons were only visible as pin pricks of light. It didn't matter my mind could fill in the missing details. So there I sat on my bed which was adorned with a tan colored sheet; as the ceiling fan blew with its wooden propellers a cool breeze of air blew over me; I read a book about black holes specifically the singularity. I will elaborate; a black hole is created when a super-massive star ends its life. The gravity is so strong that even light cannot escape, hence the name. The singularity is the name scientists have given to the theoretical center of the black hole. The amazing thing about it is that everything stops at that point; light, matter, and even time come to an end. Time ending is such a strange concept I thought, and was difficult for me to understand so I decided that in order to better understand this I needed to learn about time.

I did some research and discovered Minkowski space-time. Space time is an important element in which Einstein's theory of special relativity exists, containing not only the three dimensions of space but one of time. Stating one as a fixed observer in this structure could view past events but not interact with them and could not see future events. Minkowski's space time also allows space and gravity to warp and curve time.

My understanding had grown, and I continued to study about black holes. The connection was drawn between the singularity in a black hole and the singularity that created our universe. Once again I thought about time, it had a starting point, and how can places exist and where time ceases to exist.

One effect of time that I was well aware of was my bedtime. My father came in to say goodnight.
“Chris go to sleep,” he said, then shut off my light. The moonlight crept in from the window, I was laying down looking up at my ceiling and its spinning blades hoping that I would melt into my dreams. My father and I had built a model of the space shuttle and a few satellites, we had hung these from the ceiling. I had the obligatory picture of the astronaut flying the manned maneuvering unit (MMU) hundreds of feet from the space shuttle plastered on my wall. I would often look at the space shuttle and dream of flying it, and exploring space. I started to imagine what would happen If I flew to a black hole.

In my mind I was Chris Tkach, Astronaut. I preferred the look of the Apollo era pressure suites with their fishbowl like helmets, so that is what I was wearing big bulbous gloves and all. I could picture flying up to the event horizon (the point of no return) of a black hole, then climbing into the cargo bay of the space shuttle getting in my MMU and flying towards this point. Suddenly my thoughts turned into a nightmare, I had flown past the event horizon, I was in the black hole. I turned around to look at my shuttle and attempt to fly to it, but it was no use. No matter what I did I knew I could not escape it and that I would soon be "spaghettified" a process that is postulated to occur as you fall deeper into the black hole, the concept is simple. Falling foot first the effects of gravity would be stronger on my feet then my head, and I would be stretched apart. The Atoms from my feet would start to fly away and I form an "atomic spaghetti noodle". I would be dead, completely annihilated, no more mass, energy existing in a place without time. That is when the panic sunk in, I had no way to observe space or time. I would cease to exist, no afterlife for me. My mind sprouted another idea, drawing the similarity between time ending and time starting, what happened before I existed? I thought about it. A simple concept struck me. The state of my existence within the black hole at my death would be the same as my existence before I was born, nothing.

Nothing is a terrifying concept if you think about it. Billions of years (13.7 exactly) passed without me sensing them. Now and for a very short period of time I had a chance to experience them and be a part of the current space time. So it was easy for me to conclude that my perception of death would be the same as previous to my birth. It was simple and factual, I could and indeed had experienced part of my theory. As a young man now faced with this terrifying concept I became distraught. My panic and concern where monumental. I cried in fear and ran to my parents room. I spoke to my father and explained to him the situation at hand. My father is an attorney not a scientist and felt as we attended church, a discussion about the afterlife could better be handled by a priest. As my father was a deacon he knew the priest and contacted him.

The next afternoon the priest had some spare time and offered to meet with me after school. As I approached the church I took a moment to gaze upon its architecture. It was a large building constructed in a Gothic style. The church appeared heavy, it was fixed in place looking as if it was frozen in time. A stark contrast from the models and pictures that filled my room, those spacecraft were alive with fuel flowing like blood. As I passed through the over sized doors into the chapel I was greeted by the priest. priest's always present themselves in a calm, comforting manner. My presentation was anything but calm, I needed answers!

The priest approached me, his grey robe hid his silhouette, a pair of crosses concealed his chest. The knot on his tie was enormous, and his voice was Biblical. He carried a well-worn leather covered bible. He extended his hand and asked me to have a seat. We began to discuss the issue at hand, the giant elephant in the room was now lit by a spotlight. As we talked I started to ask about the role of religion, the parts of the bible that didn't make sense to me, maybe this man had the answers that I required? I needed proof, solid, tangible evidence.

At first his voice was soft like a blanket as he attempted to wrap me in biblical comfort. The more questions I asked the more the blanket converted from microfiber into sandpaper. I could tell he was upset with the questions I was asking.
"Have faith," he would tell me and I would respond,
"I do not understand, these facts point to this conclusion."
The priest would quote scripture as if it was fact.
“Look here my son.” He would quote these passages as he thumped his finger on the well worn bible. I knew the bible was based upon stories that had been passed on from person to person, recorded and then translated from one language to another. The priest took the words he was reading out of King James’s translation as actual fact. I could not understand how one could have so much faith in something that would never hold up as evidence in court, because it would be thrown out as hearsay. Mythical event's and broken time lines filled the book. Talking bushes, and beams of light. I knew a flaming bush could not talk, it is a fact, yet here I was being told that it was.

My faith began to unravel, and all I could do was accelerate the destruction. The priest could not comfort me, he became more and more frustrated. I had transformed from innocent child to heathen in front of his eyes. The conversation was over he was finished with me. I couldn't ignore the facts, I could no longer go to church. I no longer believed in faith, I believed in facts. I exited through the massive wooden doors that I had been carried into as an infant to be baptized. Now I exited as a child of science. I could see clearly things started to appear to me differently, the church began to look like a business. The product was salvation, the method of payment was donations and no refunds would be given. My father used it as a networking device in order to grow his law practice. The fear of eternal oblivion could be erased if you just hope, and believe in something and ignore the facts. As Church was not a large part of my life, it was just a place to go on Sunday mornings I didn't miss it. No longer did I lay in bed terrified to close my eyes, fearing the empty dreamless of the period of nothing between night and morning. I was no longer afraid, I had no reason to be I would never be able to do anything about it. Thankfully as a youth my attention span was short and I went on living life.

Even now nearly two decades later I have not reconciled with the church, being free to see from a viewpoint not skewed by a belief in a God allows me to see things in a factual nature, it has become an asset. Mark Twain said, "Man is a marvelous curiosity . . . he thinks he is the Creator's pet . . . he even believes the Creator loves him; has a passion for him; sits up nights to admire him; yes and watch over him and keep him out of trouble. He prays to him and thinks He listens. Isn't it a quaint idea." I believe that religion is a representation of mankind’s urge to belong to something bigger, to be connected to something eternal. In reality the atoms that form my body; and yours were created inside a star; just as every other atom in every other object on Earth; and the rest of the universe. It turns out that science shows us that we are all connected to each other, and to everything in the universe. I know that when I die my atoms will be recycled, forming the basis of the building blocks for new planets, new stars, and even new life. Through scientific fact I find that I am eternally connected to the universe and everything in it.

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