An Atheist in Germany
Text and photos by Tamara Isabell
t the age of seventeen, I stumbled upon the idea of moral relativity. At
that age, the concepts of ‘right’ and ‘wrong,’ seemed to be self-evidently pure abstractions. This almost immediately-- probably inevitably -- led me to atheism.
It was 1989 and I was the only atheist I knew. I was ridiculously enamored of my own philosophizing and fancied myself bold and daring in my Godlessness.
Ten years later, I was the wife of an Army Aviation Officer, assigned to Germany. I fell in love with German culture from the beginning, fascinated by their rich artisanal history displayed in every archway and cobblestone, a history so lacking in our own American landscape.
We wound up living in Germany almost fifteen years. Two of our three children were born there. I became ever more fluent in German over the years, immersing myself by stages in community life, primarily through my eldest son, who spoke German from his earliest Kindergarten days and entered the Grundschule at the age of six. My life centered around his school and play schedule, the mothers of his playmates becoming my dear friends.
Most of those years were spent in or near Wuerzburg, “The City of Churches” in the Franconian wine region. My daily errands were run in the midst of the most impressive architecture.
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