What does a four year old comprehend about religion? Regardless of your background, God (or gods) is an unseen being to whom our elders encourage us to pray. But young children need things to be concrete — they need to be able to see, touch, and feel for something to be real. When my son was in preschool, he lined up statues of Buddha, Ganesh, and Jesus to stand guard beside his bed. When his friends visited, he’d explain, “They protect me when I sleep.” At night, he would have conversations — this in place of prayer — alternating between the gods.

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He was familiar with their histories and mythologies. And he brought each statue into school for show-and-tell, introducing them — one at a time — to his classmates as if they were his buddies. Enthusiastically, his hand still decorated with henna after visiting a Hindu festival, he explained that Ganesh’s father, Shiva, chopped off is head in a fit of passion, but seeing how it devastated Ganesh’s mother, Parvati, he resurrected Ganesh with an elephant’s head. Studiously, he informed his class that Buddha spent his life fasting and meditating and that he preached the need for compassion and non-violence. And finally, he excitedly told his peers that while he had two mothers, Jesus had two fathers — Joseph and God — and that he didn’t really die on the cross because he was still alive in heaven. Innocently, he sometimes confused theologies and made up stories about how Jesus and Ganesh were best friends having a picnic together somewhere up in the sky. I’m not really sure how much he internalized, where the enjoyment of a good story dropped off and faith began. But I’m not really sure it mattered. He embraced each god equally.

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Then one day, a church friend of ours — who was intrigued by my son’s adoration of various deities — gave him a statue of the Ancient Egyptian Goddess, Bastet. That same year, for Christmas, my brother gave him an illustrated children’s version of the Ramayana along with a statue of Hanuman, the monkey god. My son was enthralled, and as the years passed his collection of deities grew, as did his knowledge of ancient and current religions.

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One afternoon in second grade, dressed as usual in a button down shirt, blazer, and tie, my son, discovered the Percy Jackson books by Rick Riodan in our local library. This series awakened an interest in Greek Mythology. His reading — beyond the novels — brought him on adventures I was previously unaware of, and I enjoyed learning about the Olympians from my son. To complement his new passion, we bought him statues of Poseidon and Zeus. 

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My mom, for as long as I could remember, had wanted to visit the Nile and the Pyramids. The year my son was in third grade, Dad booked passage for himself and my mother on a cruise to Egypt. Coincidentally, that was also the year my son transitioned from Greek to Egyptian gods and he knew more about Ancient Egyptian history and religion than most high school students. So, before my parents left, my son told them that it would make him really happy if they found and brought home Anubis — his favorite Egyptian god. My father promised he would do his best. Dad always went to whatever length was necessary to grant his only grandchild’s every wish. But then, my son added Isis to his request. My Dad looked at him, eyes wide, as if he had lost his mind. He hated to disappoint his grandson, but this was too much. Empathically, he said, “I’m not going to the Middle East and asking around for Isis.” The fact that Dad said no, stunned my son. He was confused. Grandpa always said yes. Then his young mind shifted, and he realized why saying the name Isis might not be a good idea. He smiled — surprising me with his gracious acceptance of ‘No” — and amended his choice. If Dad couldn’t find Isis, then any other god would do.    

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Despite, Dad’s vehement refusal, he did not let his grandson down. He came home laden with gifts, Isis and Anubis among them. Not only did my parents bring him back the gods of his choice, they brought back expensive ones that they had purchased in a museum, perhaps the only safe place to speak the name of Isis aloud.

   

Recently, my son — now eleven — and I had a conversation about religion and my son told me he no longer believes any of the gods are real. He still loves the stories, and he eagerly searches out different religions, seeking more myths to enrich his knowledge. However, science has come to supersede faith. I’m not terribly surprised. His curiosity and quest for enlightenment have led him in a different direction. Besides, science is tangible in a way faith isn’t. Instead of chatting with his deities and listening to what they say, he searches for answers in the random experiments he performs around the house. (Beware the plastic bottle he labeled, “Do not drink. May kill.”) 

    

At the moment, astronomy interests him most. He sets up his telescope at night in an open field or next to the window in my study, and points it at various stars, examining them as closely as his amateur eye will allow. Through reading, he’s taught himself how to identify many of the constellations, as well as some of the more prominent stars. The fact that ancient mythologies are immortalized in the sky isn’t lost on him. He is still connected to the gods he once adored. How many constellations relate to stories told by the Ancient Greeks? And what about our planets, they undoubtedly call to mind once powerful gods — Mercury, Venus, Mars, Jupiter, Saturn, Neptune and even the demoted Pluto — who ruled the Roman Empire. My son is still looking toward the sky for answers, only he is now searching among matter that is more tangible — or at least visible. Perhaps, someday his questions will bring him back to something more divine, but for now, I’m happy he’s still asking questions.

  

 I don’t know when my son stopped believing in the existence of the gods who once upon a time protected him when he slept. But maybe his newfound lack of faith has something to do with with his beloved grandfather’s death. Eighteen months ago — on another cruise, this time down in South America — my dad got COVID and died. Begging one God to preserve the life of a loved one and having that one God say “No” is devastatingly painful. I can’t imagine how awful it might have been to pray before an entire council of deities, and have each and every one reject your plea. 

    

Regardless of my son’s current take on religion, perhaps the greatest gift the gods imparted on him was a desire to delve more deeply into world cultures — ways of life different from his own. At a young age, my son began to compare theologies, creation stories, and the many fantastic adventures embarked upon by the more well-known gods. He found more similarities than differences, and he learned that when he comes across something foreign or unfamiliar that it’s not wrong to ask questions. And with a wealth of knowledge already collected, there is always something to which he can connect new information.  Religion is a cornerstone of culture. Being at ease in someone else’s house of worship, simply means a greater sense of belonging in their world, their home, or even at their table.

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