Recently my family had occasion to attend a function held in our honor, an event commemorating a certain achievement. It was thrown by close relatives, Witnesses all. It included parents, grandparents, cousins, siblings, auties and uncles. Some drove over an hour to get there.
Everyone brought a bit of food and it was a sumptuous feast, including dessert!
Gifts were given us, nothing ostentations, but including some very thoughtful and kind things. Things purchased and given in the spirit of fellowship and family, things specifically chosen out of knowledge of our likes and dislikes, our needs and wants. Nobody in my family, including the children, were overlooked. Beautifully written cards included personal expressions of congratulation and encouragement.
Afterward, the rather large group split into pieces. Some talked over beer, some played cards, some retired to the back room for video games. My kids played with the other kids that were there.
We discussed old times--old friends--old experiences in the door to door work--old meetings--old assemblies. We talked about friends, family, acquaintences, people we knew who were sick, people we knew who were pregnant, people we knew who had died, people we knew who were in great pain. We compared notes with other parents on raising our kids, on recent medical checkups, on children's progress in school.
We were, other than the people that lived there, the last ones to leave. As each family departed for the drive home, we thanked them sincerely, and they warmly gave us our welcome. Hands were shaken, smiles exchanged, entreaties to drive carefully were given.
This was not lovebombing. Topics of discussion notwithstanding, this had nothing to do with being Witnesses, it was a close extended family enjoying each other's company. It was part of the support network. It was the clan, the tribe we were born in or married into. It was one of the better manifestations of the human condition.
I don't want to lose this. They don't want to lose me. There's a mutual esteem, a sincere friendship. I am family. And yet, and yet...
I know that Jehovah's Witnesses are hogwash. I know it's a sometimes destructive cult. I know all of the problems. I'm well versed in the beliefs, the customs, the teachings, better, in fact, than any of the people who were there that night, including the three elders. I fully, mentally, checked out a long time ago.
My conscience bothers me every time I invoke Jehovah to get my kids to get dressed for meeting. I shatter a bit, inside, every time I say a prayer for them before mealtimes or at bedtime. I die a little every time I stand and sing at the meetings. The thought of asking my children to take a stand (for a stand they will have to take) for something I don't even believe in is anathema to me.
And I know that all those truly, sincerely loving family members will turn their backs on me if and when I leave. Most of them will continue to love me, they will feel great sadness at my choice (for choice it is,) they will perhaps even shed many tears over such a formerly valuable contributory productive family member departing for "Satan's System," but shun me they will, for ever more. And this will not make them cruel or evil--they love me. They still will. They are held in thrall of this cult and its rules and its legal system and its evil manipulations, as much as I used to be.
No more family. No more support network. No more gifts given or received. No more handshakes, sumptuous meals, lingering goodbyes. No more video games, card games, talks over beers. No more reminiscing over the past. No more heartfelt greeting cards, no more talk of raising children. No more hugs, no more kisses.
No more love.
This is what my conscience contents with every day. This is the choice before me. This is the end I face. This is what I drag my family into, my happy, faithful, loving wife, my eager, intelligent, bright, vivacious kids.
It's easy to say "it's hogwash, just leave." And who can argue with that? Not I. But it's a hard, cruel, bitter bargain, a hollow victory, a death of thousands of cuts. It's anguish.