Last night I finished reading a book called Leaving Faith Behind, by Jeff Olsson, a former Anglican priest in Canada. As books go, it was a mediocre effort, as the writing was very dry throughout. Nevertheless, three sections stand out that are worth mentioning here.
First, I welcomed Olsson’s insights into the residential system whereby the Canadian government decreed that First Nations children would be forcibly removed from their homes and families so that they could be properly educated (read: Westernized, at best, or more correctly, brutalized and brainwashed). Churches often provided residential and educational services for these programs, and the Anglican Church of Canada was a major player in this process. This system ended fairly recently, in the mid-1990s (1996, if my memory is correct), so I’m not talking about ancient history here. Three of the issues that prompted Olsson to reconsider his beliefs were a) the extent of the guilt of Anglican priests in abusing the children in their care (abuses were physical, emotional, sexual – the whole gamut of possibilities was exhausted), b) the callous indifference of Church leaders for the damage they caused to several thousand children and families, and c) the Church’s overriding concern to evade fiscal, civil, or criminal consequences for the actions of its representatives.
Second, I appreciated Olsson’s discussion of the Canadian Anglican Church’s struggles to deal with homosexuality in a wholesome way. He provides a detailed chronicle of how the issue was handled within his former Church from the 1970s through the mid-2000s (the book was published in 2009). The issue stands at a stalemate now – no action is being taken so that neither liberal nor conservative wings of the church will have cause to leave the broader Anglican fellowship. Olsson also has some great insights into why remaining within the broader fellowship is so important to many believers.
Third, Olsson’s chapter about his childhood sense of wonder with the world around him, the loss of that wonder as a believer, and his regaining of it as a nonbeliever resonated powerfully with me. He described his childhood love of the Encyclopedias Americana, Canadiana, and Britannica, and how he nearly always found answers to his questions in those tomes. Then, as he became more immersed in his biblical studies, the encyclopedias gathered dust (as my Bibles do now). Finally, he recounts an outing with his nephew, in which they watched two groups of ants struggling with some caterpillars about some territory near a tree. During their discussion, he is struck by his nephew’s curiosity and wonder, which mirrored what his own had been like and prompted him to think deeply about how and why they had been lost. He’s since recovered both the curiosity and the wonder and revels in his newfound love of the world around him.
As I noted in this post’s opening paragraph, this book is not a riveting deconversion story. Many other more engaging, better written accounts are available. On the other hand, the Kindle edition of this book was only a couple of dollars, so I don’t feel like I wasted my money. People interested in glimpsing some of the history the Anglican Church of Canada may find it a worthwhile read.
– the chaplain
Filed under: atheism, deconversion, humanism, indoctrination, literature, rationalism, religion, science, society, spiritual abuse





I came across a weird little item a couple of days ago and have wondered whether I should let it go or write about it. As you can see, I’ve made my decision. The item of which I write is entitled, 











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