A Jew, a Catholic and an Athiest walk into a bar...

Holidays with my family always seem like the start of a good joke.

A Jew, a Catholic and an Athiest walk into a bar... except its not a bar, its a dining room. Usually on a holiday. Of a religious nature. That only a small minority are actually celebrating for religious purposes.

My aunt is Jewish. My dad, her big brother, is Episcopalian. My mom is God Hating UU and of her three daughters, I am a formerly Buddhist observant Catholic, my big sister a lapsed Catholic and my little sister... a strange mix of Epsicopalian, liberal United Church of Christ and her own version of "Just Be A Good Person".

Naturally, we discuss religion and politics at every gathering. God help us all. Especially those of us who dont believe in Him.

The tension vibrates tangibly, and interestingly enough each person seems to be an expert on the other person's religion. I regularly receive questionable, but juicy information about the Catholic church, while I regale my aunt with my latest learnings of Judaism. My mother insists on reading her ecumenical and politically correct prayers- oh wait! I dont think we call them prayers- they are meditations! So she reads her meditations at the beginning of the meal and then offers up a frightening and intimidating call to "any other prayers we DARE to utter." Generally there is silence while my children and I cautiously cross ourselves and murmer a short mealtime prayer. My aunt hautily announces that there IS no Jewish prayer for Easter.

There is something comforting about eating the same foods year after year. And apparently, we also find comfort in telling the same tales, complaining about the same political issues, and when politics become too far removed from my parents' day, they just start venting about how the neighborhood is going to pot.

That is pot as in people of controversial skin coloring are moving in, not the pot of my generation: the kind one might enjoy smoking. This would also be the point where I escort my children, the only kids there, into another room to play a game. Trust me. They have, by this time, heard enough.

Until grandma actually died, there was always the discussion about how this might be grandma's last Easter... That went on for a good three decades. Now each year its, "Your grandmother would be 102 this year!" This is never said with joy but with a strange bitterness that smacks of dysfunction. People cant say what they mean. We must hedge. That is the dysfunctional tradition.

Sometimes I think our differing religious beliefs are merely the only acceptable form of dissent we can tolerate in each other. I guess that is the best we can do for religious tolerance; tolerate our differences not due to any respect of another's choice, but rather out of an exploitive need to laugh at the other. Its a strange thing my family.

And now I am supposed to write a charming and sentimental conclusion stating that crazy as they are, I wouldnt trade my family for the world. But truth be told, I would definately go for a few trades. Maybe not the individuals themselves, who I really do love, but in the attitudes and bite of their sarcasm. Maybe this is why my sisters take turns smoking outside during half of each family gathering. I think I need a bad habit that involves getting the hell away from the dining room table.

So a Jew, a Catholic, and an Athiest walk into an Easter brunch...