NOVEMBER 1998

She loved her three children. She worked two jobs to support them, since her ex-husband could never seem to manage to come up with the child support. So it was nothing less than a shock when we all heard that this very ex-husband was suing for custody of their oldest child, a 13-year-old boy. Shock turned to disbelief when we learned that the boy, Eric (no real names used), who loved his two little sisters unreservedly, wanted to go live with his father. Why? Well, it was all about God.

Child custody battles are invariably ugly, and emotions run high, but the children invariably come out the losers. In this case, the mother, Barbara, was a friend of mine. I knew she was a Jehovah's Witness, she knew I was an atheist, so needless to say we didn't discuss religion. She did make one plucky attempt to introduce me to Jehovah's benevolence. I calmly responded by directing her attention to the results of that benevolence—wars, starvation, the Holocaust—and she let it go. But I never dreamed that her stalwart faith would be the reason she lost her son—legally and emotionally.

Eric was around nine years old when his parents divorced, and it was, perhaps no coincidence, shortly thereafter that his mother was converted from a vague, nominal Protestant to a passionately enthusiastic Jehovah's Witness. Those doorbell ringers found an ardently receptive recruit in Barbara. It was like a duck to water. At the time, her daughters, Jamie and Denise, were only three and one, respectively, and didn't know God from the Tooth Fairy. But Eric, though he initially accepted the new God, soon decided he wanted no part of this stern, demanding Jehovah. He became a 9-year-old backslider.

With the fervor found only in new converts, Barbara kept after the poor child, relentless in her efforts to "get some Jehovah" into him. The more she pushed, the more he resisted—a fairly predictable outcome. So her spiritual leaders concluded, unbelievably, that since Eric had initially been receptive (at age nine) but was now "renouncing," he was a sinner. And sinners had to be punished. Accordingly, when Barbara and her bewildered little girls ("Why isn't Eric coming with us, Mommy?") went to their twice-weekly Jehovah's Witness meetings, Eric was taken along, against his will, but left in the car alone. At night. For two hours or more. Twice a week.

This went on for almost two years until Eric finally complained to his father about it. I had no idea it was going on. However, I was most unhappily aware of other aspects of Barbara's religious activities. Once, stopping at my house after work, she called her home to tell the sitter she'd be a bit late. Jamie, around six now, was excited to get on the phone and tell Mommy how she had been "strong for Jehovah." Jamie had refused to participate in her kindergarten class project of making Christmas decorations—snowmen and snowflakes. Not a hint of religion. But since JWs did not believe in observing Christmas, cutting out snowmen was somehow sinful. So here we have a sweet little six-year-old girl, self-ostracized over some glitter and glue decorations, and a mother beaming joyously because her daughter had been "strong for Jehovah." It was poignant and depressing. Little Jamie was carrying a burden far too large for such small shoulders.

When I finally heard about Eric's car-imprisonment evenings, I was appalled. The image of that little boy, almost thirteen now, all alone, shivering in his parka jacket while locked in a parked car, was sickening. I didn't hear about these little adventures until the custody suit was well under way. I can understand Barbara's reluctance to talk about it, but I could not understand her actions. I asked her how she could possibly treat a child that way! Defensively, she offered the Jehovah/sinner thing, and abruptly ended the conversation. She also abruptly ended our friendship. I guess I was in league with the Devil.

The tragic part of all of this is that Barbara truly loved her children. I can't imagine the conflicts she experienced in treating her son that way. She was heartbroken when the Court took Eric away from her, but I don't see how she could have expected anything else.

Is there a lesson to be learned from this dreadful narrative? Well, aside from never answering your doorbell, perhaps there is. For all the bickering that goes on between us freethinkers/humanists/atheists/etceteras, we can all agree on one thing: None of our groups would ever allow, let alone demand that, a parent leave a young child unattended in a car at night. Humanism's goal is ambitious but worthy—the best life possible for everyone on Earth. And that could never include a shivering, frightened little boy being forsaken because he would not bow down correctly to the right God.

Well, I must end my sad tale here. There's someone at my doorbell.

© 1998 Judith Hayes

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