To believe or not to believe

Dear God/Goddess/Other,

It’s Christmas Eve and I’m sitting in my grandparents’ home church. Many family members were baptized here, my grandparents and my parents got married in this church. The whole room is dark, except for the lights on the Christmas tree next to the altar. Bells ring and I rise with the rest of the congregation in the pews. The incense envelops me as the organist strikes up Silent Night. The altar servers walk through the rows carrying burning candles, passing on the light from Bethlehem. Our candle is lit too. It will be blown out by the end of the service, as we will have to walk through the winter wind to reach the car park. I make the sign of the cross and sing along to the songs, which I know by heart. I stand up, sit down, kneel, and speak the prayers. I shake hands, sing a little more, and let myself be blessed by the priest's incense. I follow a choreography that I have mastered perfectly. 

It's been five months since I last went to church. For the most part, I haven't thought about you at all during that time. The church, and therefore you, play no part in my daily life. However, over the holidays, when I become a full-time daughter and granddaughter again, it changes. I went to church four times in the week between Christmas Eve and New Year's Eve. Having known it all my life, I suddenly found it strange. 

A feeling that is rather new to me. Because as a child, not only did I attend church regularly, I also identified deeply with it. Every Sunday, I went to the service with my family. Every Sunday. The children's Bible was the first proper book I ever read. I took part in church celebrations, volunteered for years, received all the sacraments, attended contemplative youth retreats and was an altar server for seven years. I loved to play church with my sister in our living room. I was the priest, of course. At home, we prayed before meals and before going to bed. I was deeply convinced by my family's religion. I can’t remember ever questioning its content.

Doubts only came up when I was about 15 years old.

Youth without God?

„But now, in the light of science and evidence and rationality, we know better than our pious ancestors, and the persistence of faith is an example of wishful thinking keeping facts and logic and plain reality at bay.”, writes New York Times columnist Ross Douthat in his book “Believe”. (p. 15) It is a fact that people are decreasingly religious.

According to the latest "KMU” survey conducted by the German Protestant and Catholic churches in 2022, 56% of the German population are secular, meaning religion plays no role in their lives. Of these, 65% are non-denominational, but church members also fall into this category. The average age of this group is low. This finding is consistent with the results of the latest Shell Youth Study from 2024. The figures show that faith is losing importance among young people (aged 12 to 25), regardless of the institution of the church. Belief in God has become significantly less relevant for young Catholics over the past 20 years, falling from 51% in 2002 to 38% in 2024. Furthermore, across both denominations, only 18% of those surveyed say they pray once a week, while 49% never pray (compared to 29% in 2002).

Faith rooted in family socialization

When one of my friends asks if I was raised religiously, I usually just tell them that my whole family is from Lower Bavaria. Specifically, the Passau area. In the Archdiocese of Passau, the proportion of Catholics is over 60% – the highest figure in the whole country. Although the trend of people leaving the Church continues in Bavaria (In 2024, 87,184 people left the Catholic Church; Bavaria ranks highest in Germany) the number of Catholics is still very high, accounting for almost half of the state's population at 41% as the current figures from the church statistics of the German Bishops' Conference show.

Everything I know about faith, I learnt from my family, especially my grandmother. I grew up hearing her stories about how she used to go to church at the crack of dawn as a child. Her religious socialization and the experiences she had as a child have shaped her entire life. I have always sensed how important faith is to her. It gives her stability and direction.

When my grandfather died 20 years ago, for example, it was her faith in God that helped her to keep going. Even though I was still a child, only three years old, the Christian idea of eternal life also influenced me. I often spoke to my grandfather as if he was in the room with me. The idea that he was always with me, looking down from heaven where he sat next to you, helped me to cope with his absence. To be honest, this is a comforting thought for me, even now.

So many aspects of my daily life are connected to religion and faith that I often don’t notice them. Although I usually only see my grandmother during the holidays, my parents, especially my mama, also pass on their religious values to me. They want me to find as

much support in the Christian faith as they do. They want it to accompany me throughout my life, so that I trust in you, God, at my side.

Religion – a generational thing?

Religiousness in Germany is changing primarily along generational lines. It is not ageing that makes people more religious or irreligious, but rather their generational affiliation: Each successive cohort is, on average, less religious than the previous one. A process known in the sociology of religion as cohort secularization. This trend has been empirically proven for Germany. Qualitative studies show how this change is taking place in families: While grandparents grew up in a Catholic environment with religious practice as a matter of course, parents often pass on religion only in a weakened or selective form. For the youngest generation, religiosity is ultimately hardly supported by society and is subject to strong individual pressure to justify it – it thus becomes less of a tradition and more of a personal choice. Today, religious transmission is most successful where family, community and institutions intertwine. Yet, it is precisely at this point that the Church as an institution is increasingly losing its social cohesive power.

Your church, my church?

During every catholic service the congregation says the creed. They affirm their belief in you. Sometimes I say it with them, sometimes I don’t. But I always remain silent out of habit during one part of the creed: “I believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic Church.”

Regardless of how my faith has changed, my distance is largely directed towards the institution of the Church. The older I got, the more convinced I became that I didn't really want to be part of this outdated organization. A monarchical circle of old, mostly white men who sell their own ideas of society as the will of God – no, thank you.

How can I possibly be part of an institution that values me, as a woman, less than my male cousins, my father or my grandfather? The Bible is repeatedly used to justify favoring the male gender. To put it mildly, I don't think much of that. But honestly? If that is truly your will, then I don't want anything to do with you as God anyway.

So much suffering, so much injustice and violence was done in the name of the Church. And the Church today is not doing much to shed light on these acts. The numerous abuse scandals in the Catholic Church alone, which gradually came to light, have still not been fully investigated, and those responsible have not been held accountable.

And even today, the Church still hurts so many people. Homosexual relationships are considered wrong, and the Church fails to provide a safe space for queer people.

A Church like this is no place for me.

People leave the churches

I am not the only one who is concerned about these issues. This trend away from the Church can also be observed across society as a whole. Today, the decline in the importance of the Church is evident in the gradual separation of the institution from lived religiosity. According to the 2024 church statistics of the German Bishops' Conference, 23,7 % of the population still belongs to the Catholic Church (cf. 36% in 1990). Only 13% of people can still be described as 'church-religious', and this group tends to be older than those with different religious beliefs.

The loss of institutional significance is particularly evident among young people. With an average trust rating of just 2.4 out of 5, churches are the least trusted of all the institutions surveyed (Shell Youth Study). Overall, there are many signs that the church is losing more than just members; it is also losing its social relevance, and thus its role as a religious authority.

“My God why have you forsaken me"

As I got older, I struggled for a while. I won't go into detail here but suffice it to say that I found it hard to find meaning in my life at that time. I sought support and guidance from what I interpreted as my faith. I didn't find it. Desperate for help, I wrote to you. I wrote down my worries and fears, and my deepest secret: that sometimes I wanted to stop existing. I hoped for help. From my naive 15-year-old perspective, I thought you would fix everything. You would help me to make my life beautiful again and give me back my purpose.

Looking back as an adult, I realize that you don't work like a magic lamp. Personal faith isn’t a wish-granting machine. And yet, at that time, I felt incredibly alone. I had oriented my young life towards you up to that point. It felt like a betrayal.

The familiar feeling of comfort

In recent years, I have become less frequent in my church attendance and less engaged with my faith. When I return after a long absence, I feel the distance that I have sought. But it does not last.

It is 31 December, New Year's Eve. Once again, I am sitting in a church, attending the end-of-year mass at Munich's Frauenkirche. This time, it is just my parents and me, and this time I am not here because I want to do someone a favor. Even though I don't really want to admit it, I wanted to come here myself. The strange feelings that preoccupied me just a week ago have faded into the background.

I enjoy being in this church. Even though I no longer live here, I still consider Munich my hometown. In a way, the Frauenkirche seems to me to be the center of it. The service is very festive. Everything smells of incense, the music comes from a large organ high above the congregation, and there are about 20 people standing in the large chancel (I count 20 men to one woman).

Dear God, is it faith or nostalgia?

Complete detachment would be so easy. Deciding that I don't want the church in my life. Just finding it strange and alien. I would disappoint my family, but if that's how I feel, I can stand by my decision.

The only problem is that I don't. I can't deny that I enjoy being in church from time to time. Some Christian ideas give me comfort. The music, the rituals, even the smell of incense – everything is so wonderfully familiar to me. Do I really believe in it? I don't know. I can imagine a certain kind of deity, a certain kind of supernatural power that watches over our existence on earth. But what does it look like?

Dear God, how can I distinguish between feelings I have out of habit and a genuine interest in faith?

I look forward to hearing back from you.

Yours, Gabriele