Confession of a lapsed Catholic

I loved that title so much, I always wanted to write a text starting with it. I haven't practised in years, last time I went to a Catholic church was in October 2005 for the baptism of my godson, when a crazed vicar (or something of the sort) talked about deacon of light and the Original Sin and Godless schools run by Godless teachers making Godless Quebeckers turning to Satan. I feel pretty much like a Godless man myself, so I guess becoming a godfather was something of an hypocrisy. I dropped all the holy water bottle the priest gave me on my suit. It didn't burn my skin, so I guess I am still in a state of Grace...sort of. At least I will not need an exorcism. I visited churches afterwards, but they were Protestant ones (of the Church of England denomination), either to see weddings, to prepare my own wedding and subsequently to marry a unbaptised Anglican-by-culture-because-British wife. Shame on me. I might roast in Hell after all. Anyway, I lost my faith around the age of 16-17, ironically enough by reading the novels of Anthony Burgess, another lapsed Catholic who never really quite got over it (he even went so far as to write the script of Jesus of Nazareth). Religion is as much a cultural invention as a spiritual/moral compass, and as a desperately shallow man, I was always attracted to those often silly rituals, the cultural aspect of faith, but never quite got round the rest. Nowadays, religious people practice their faith before they bother practicing the moral coming with it, and said moral is subservient to the faith. Anyway, spiritual rewards are often an excuse to give Earthly Hell. So I can live happy with my shallow Godless, agnostic conscience.