I learned an interesting fact recently. Catholic Canon Law actually considers it blasphemy to abominate or disparage the drinking of alcohol. In other words, if you claim that it is a sin to drink alcohol, you are committing a fairly serious offense against God. Why? Because you are disrespecting something sacred, in this case alcohol, one of God’s good creations. Personally, I too believe alcohol is a pretty darn good creation.

After discovering that fact, I couldn’t wait to tell my trans son. The opportunity came when I was driving he and one of his sisters to a movie. I casually mentioned, “Hey, funny thing I just learned, did you know the Catholic Church considers it blasphemy to condemn alcohol?” He looked at me cautiously for a moment, weighing where I was going with this, then shrugged and said, “Well, they believe everything God created is good, and since God created the ingredients of alcohol, it’s not all that surprising,” and went back to his reading.

I said, “Yeah, fair point.” And waited a second, barely able to conceal my anticipation. I continued, “But doesn’t it strike you as a bit odd, that while the Church doesn’t condemn alcohol, they do condemn trans kids?” I glanced back at him quickly, hoping to catch his reaction. He didn’t look up right away, but his sister laughed and said, “Tough luck.”

Finally, after a drawn-out pause, he slowly looks up at me and says rather nonchalantly, “Well, they’re not alone in that. I think many Muslims would agree with them.” Damn, I must admit, I thought I’d get a rise out of him on that one, but the kid’s good. I think he’s become more or less immune to my not-so-subtle baiting tactics and not-so-random observations.

Nonetheless, his sister seemed at least mildly entertained, so I counted that as a victory. The discussion died down after a bit, and my son went back to his reading and his sister to her music. But it got me to thinking. I wonder what it would be like to have a conversation with Nicolas Copernicus. I imagined trying to explain that today’s Church still holds enough authority to defy logic and reason and control the socio-political discourse.

In my mind’s eye, I see Copernicus initially responding with a belly laugh, incredulous that the Church could maintain its grip on power some four centuries after his sun-centric discovery. Then I imagine his smile fading into a look of abject shock and horror as he realizes I wasn’t joking. I don’t even want to think about what a conversation with Eratosthenes would be like, considering flat earthers still abound some two-plus millennia after he scienced-the-heck out of that myth.

The period of time from 1500-1700 is designated the Scientific Revolution, and for good reason. It represented a revolutionary shift in thinking, as long-held beliefs about human anatomy, biology, astronomy, and the natural world were shattered, challenging even the most sacred tenets of Holy scripture. The early scientists who led this revolution sought absolute truth, not by relying on interpretations of Christian doctrine, but by being curious and using that most wonderful of human skills. Critical thinking. They established the foundation for what Sir Francis Bacon ultimately synthesized into his scientific methodology.

From the Scientific Revolution to the Age of Enlightenment and into the Modern Era, the scientific method gave humanity a common framework with which to distinguish fact from fiction. It allowed us to characterize the physical laws that describe our natural world, rather than attributing supernatural explanations to things we cannot understand. It allowed us to embrace uncertainty, rather than deny it because we fear the unknown.

But as we know all too well, the empire always strikes back. For every scientific and social development that threatens the Church’s narrative, there is a corresponding backlash, typically wrought with a severity and vindictiveness meant to dissuade any future thoughts of defiance.

This work is my best attempt to sow the seeds of rebellion. And I don’t mean your stodgy garden-variety rebellion. I am talking about nothing less than ending the weaponization of religion, by finally holding organized religions accountable for their thousand-year-plus reign of terror against critical thinking. A reign of terror punctuated by some of the worst crimes against humanity.

Those religious institutions have enjoyed an almost teflon-like immunity from facing justice. They continue to exert their influence in every facet of modern society, from what we learn in school, to who we love at home; from the healthcare we need to live, to the suffering we endure till death. Accountability? Nah. We’ve given them a tax break instead.

So we choose rebellion, of the scientific kind. It begins as soon as we acknowledge that faith is not fact. But for it to take hold, our younger generations must vote en masse to ensure that those four words are enshrined and upheld at every level of government and within any institution receiving government funding. The rebellion must continue until all our laws and public policies are based on logic and reason and not supernatural speculation.

Faith is not fact. Unless we enshrine those four words in our practice of government, we will always be susceptible to the weaponization of religion. We will always be only one election cycle away from the rise of some form of Christian nationalism and its opportunistic demiGod. We will witness life imitating art, as The Handmaid’s Tale becomes prophecy.

The odds may not be in our favor, but there is power in taking that first step of defiance. It is the power in Rosa Parks saying ‘Nah’ to giving up her seat. It is the power in taking a knee, rising up, and never backing down. It is the power in unleashed rebellion.

This is Peter Tchoryk.

Welcome, to the rebellion.

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