My mother raised me with no particular notion of God. That is to say that while we celebrated Christian holidays, they were secular versions of themselves. On Christmas, we gathered around the Christmas tree and opened presents, and any particular year we may or may not have attended church. Jesus was the baby in the manger scene, but there was no explanation of who he was or why I received presents on this day from a man in a red suit with a long, white beard.
On Easter, I woke to a large basket of candies and toys and then hunted Easter eggs. Again, we may or may not have attended church on any particular Easter. And, again, no explanation of why I received candies and toys on this day from a giant rabbit.
When we did attend church, it was a Catholic church. In raising me, my mother gave me all the love and resources she had available to her. And the resource my ethnically Jewish mother had available to her in the area of religion was a Catholic tradition. In conversations with my mother, I get the sense that she too was raised without any specific religious