Vicarious God-pestering
My parents both went to severe Catholic schools - the sort where if you dared to speak out of line, question the authority of the priests, have an ounce of self-esteem or try to enjoy life to any degree not sanctioned by the Catholic Church you got physically beaten. One particularly delicious memory of my father's dates from when he was about 10 or 11, and the school invited a priest to talk to all the boys in his year, to find out whether or not they might want to become priests. My dad's approach was to ask questions, to whit:

"If I die, where does my soul go?"

Apparently the mere fact of asking questions went against the fundamental values of the priesthood, and he was excluded. So now he spends his days drinking beer and playing the electric guitar, and generally not regretting his youthful curiosity.
( .Yeti. El amor en los tiempos del cólera, Thu 1 Sep 2011, 22:32, 2 replies)

My old school had a similar policy for dealing with questions.

( The Mock TurtIe ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 2 Sep 2011, 0:25, closed)

The Catholic friends I had as a child, 40-odd years ago, had this experience and didn't see anything strange about it, even when their father joined in and beat them with his belt on the priest's say-so.
Gave me a deep and lasting hatred of Catholicism, especially the priests, and a more general scepticism about every other religion. I'm quite grateful.
(Juan Quar is clinging to her front teeth on, Fri 2 Sep 2011, 8:46, closed)