There was a time when I used to get fairly wrapped around the axle about things like “church membership” and the calls I would get from “elders” in the church. While I was glad to be free from the sub-rational, make-believe nonsense, the entreaties I heard always made it sound so official, almost institutional and governmental in tone, obligational.
After some time of separation, though, I began regarding the disassociation more like that of abandoning a dumb club. Religious affiliation really is, after all, nothing more than club membership. Religion isn’t culture, it just feeds on it.
For that matter — for all the people out there who love similes — it could also be likened to being a member of a labor union. After the godists Union repeatedly failed to negotiate decent contracts in my trade (the jobs of thinking clearly and living free and so forth), I finally decided to stop showing up at the hall, stopped voting for the corrupt or clueless bosses; I metaphorically burned my religious union card.