Atheist in Tunisia – Me and Islam (Part 2)

How I became a seeker again as an atheist in Tunisia (unintentionally)

I did not intend to engage with Islam.
Really did not.

I didn’t move to Tunisia to find God. I’m not going through a midlife spiritual crisis, no emptiness decorated with palms, no sudden urge for a headscarf or conversion. My inner self-image was quite clear: Atheist. Done with religion. Thanks, that’s settled.

(That’s what I thought. Spoiler: I was wrong.)

And then my body started to think differently.

From my first week here, something happened that I hadn’t anticipated: the call to prayer. When the muezzin sings, I pause. Not consciously, not intentionally – just like that. I listen. I don’t understand a word. And yet I feel something I know very well and take very seriously: calm. Peace. Such a deep, physical relaxation that even my inner know-it-all shuts up briefly.

That unsettled me.
Quite a bit.

My religious background as an atheist

or: Why I should actually be immune

I come from a Catholic upbringing. Baptized, First Communion, the whole village hoopla. Even in Communion class, it was obvious that I had apparently signed the wrong contract: I asked questions. Many questions. Too many questions.

The answers were… let’s say: unsatisfactory.

At nine years old, I read the Bible. Completely. Old and New Testament.
I even liked the Old Testament. God is not a cuddly father in it, but quite an unpleasant character: moody, cruel, jealous. At least consistent in literary terms.

The New Testament, on the other hand, was the beginning of the end of my life as a believing Catholic. The contradiction between what this Jesus preached and what the church did was impossible to overlook – even for a child.

The day before my confirmation, I gave the Catholic Church the middle finger and announced my resignation from the church. Village drama, family drama, purgatory threats, pocket money blackmail – all of it. I went through with it anyway.

From then on, I was no longer a believer, but a seeker. And yes, I searched.
Extensively.

Already tried everything (and discarded it again)

Later, I made myself comfortable in Buddhism for a few years – until I noticed that enlightenment there also seemed to come along with hierarchies, gurus, and power. I was a hobby shaman, Wicca follower, incense enthusiast – until I realized that I was spending more money on candles, sticks, and protective charms than on books. That was the last straw.

For about ten years now, I have been very well educated in religion and esotericism – and therefore almost completely immune to it. I know the patterns. The promises. The psychological levers.

I still use tarot cards and runes today. But strictly within their limits: as a translation aid for my own unconscious. Not as an oracle. Not as truth. Not as cosmic customer service.

In short: I’m actually the kind of person to whom religion just bounces off.

Actually.

Why Islam in Tunisia still concerns me

I don’t believe in God. That hasn’t changed.
And yet Islam appeals to me. Not emotionally idealized, not romantic – but in an almost sober, unsettling way.

No incarnation.
No personification.
No savior myth.
No “God becomes human and suffers vicariously.”

Sun and moon are signs in Islam, not saviors. The moon structures time, not truth. Astrology is rejected. Images are avoided. God remains radically beyond.

Meaning lies not in heaven, but in action.

For an atheist like me, that’s paradoxically appealing. Islam doesn’t seem like a spiritual spectacle, but like a strict corrective:
Stop searching for salvation in the cosmos. Look at your behavior.

That’s not cozy.
But clear.

Head vs. gut – Round 37

Of course, my head immediately speaks up. Loudly. Nervously. Preachily.

Religion! Patriarchy! Oppression! Terror! Women’s rights!

All valid points. All topics that must not be belittled.

And yet something else happens in parallel. My gut speaks up. Quieter. More persistent. And says: Listen.

Not: Believe that.
Not: Convert.
But: Look closer before you judge.

When the muezzin sings, I don’t understand a word. But I hear discipline, devotion, order, humility. No request for money. No emotional blackmail. No “you are nothing without me.” Just a call saying: There is something greater than you – and you are still part of it.

That surprises me every time.

Seekers Again – Between Doubt and Openness

I ask questions. To believers. On the internet. I receive many opinions, little precision. A lot of “you have to believe,” little “you may ask.” That triggers me immediately. And yet I keep at it.

I sit in the sun, look at the sea, listen to prayers, think, read, doubt, sort things out. Old beliefs are not discarded – but examined. And yes, my inner know-it-all constantly rolls her eyes during this.

I am a seeker again.
Not lost.
Not believing.
Not willing to accept bullshit as truth.

But open enough to admit to myself:
Sometimes meaning comes from directions I had long written off.

When the muezzin sings, I pause.
When the sun shines, I breathe a sigh of relief.

That’s all I know right now.
And for the moment, that is enough.

Under the same sun.