I would describe myself as a cultural Catholic.
There aren’t all that many Catholics in England and as a child I enjoyed the sense of being part of an exclusive group, though this never tipped over into me thinking that only members of certain religions go to heaven – or that heaven exists at all, actually.
Growing up, my understanding of church finances was limited to my grandmother pressing 50 pence into my hand on Sundays to drop in the collection basket.
Which is to say the idea of a church tax was completely foreign to me before I arrived in Germany.
Germany’s church tax
For the uninitiated, Germany’s church tax – or Kirchensteuer – is a legally mandated levy collected from members of certain religious communities, including the Catholic and Protestant churches, as well as some Jewish congregations.
The tax is no small token gesture: it amounts to eight percent of your income tax in Bavaria and Baden-Württemberg, and nine percent in the rest of the country. For someone earning €50,000 a year, this can mean an extra €850 to €900 annually, deducted directly from your payslip.
I never actually intended to sign up for it. When I first arrived in Germany and applied for a tax number, I was asked to state my religion.
Catholic, I replied – so delighted I’d managed to understand the question with my poor German that I didn’t think to wonder why I was being asked, or realise I’d just signed up for a lifetime of extra deductions.
For months, I failed to understand the word Konfession followed by “rk” (Roman Catholic, I later learned) on my payslips. By the time I did figure it out, I’d become too busy – and too wary of German bureaucracy – to investigate further.
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Unexpected perks
There have been moments when being a paid-up member of the church has worked in my favour.
After my daughter was born, I occasionally took her to church on Sunday mornings. She seemed to enjoy the music and my wife certainly appreciated the peace and quiet at home.
A few months later, when my wife and I were caught up in the madness of trying to secure a place at a local Kindergarten in Berlin, I attended an open day hosted by a familiar face from the church.
I can’t say for certain whether this connection helped secure my daughter a spot, but it definitely didn’t hurt.
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Religion, however, hasn’t caught on with my children.
When the time came to choose between Religion or Lebenskunde (a secular alternative) at school, my wife and I asked them to pick between angels and monkeys.
Unhesitatingly, both chose monkeys.
The exit process
After sixteen years in Germany, I finally got round to officially leaving the church – a process which involved making an appointment at the local district court (Amtsgericht), waiting for the date to arrive, navigating various metal detectors and security questions on the way in, and then finally signing the necessary paperwork.

Despite knowing I would no longer have to spend hundreds of euros every year on additional taxes – and even though I’d grown up in a culture where paying a mandatory tax wasn’t required – I found the moment surprisingly emotional.
While the civil servant was perfectly polite and strictly non-judgemental, the Church itself found a way to let me know it was worried about me.
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The letter
Shortly after my “exit”, I received a letter and information sheet from the Archbishop’s Ordinariate in Berlin.
The Vicar General thanked me for my previous membership and assured me that, “you remain connected to Jesus Christ even after your departure.”
In other words: I may have left the building, but the Church isn’t quite done with me yet.
The letter went on to explain, with a certain reluctant generosity, that “God’s promise through baptism remains unchanged.”
The Church, I was told, “does not pass judgment about the reasons and takes the decision very seriously”.
The consequences of leaving
While the promise of eternal salvation remains, leaving the Catholic Church in Germany is not without its penalties.
According to the information sheet which accompanied the letter, those who leave:
- May not receive the sacraments (including the Eucharist, Confirmation, Penance, and Anointing of the Sick), except in cases of danger of death and only with special permission.
- Lose both active and passive voting rights in the Church, meaning we cannot participate in church committees or councils.
- Cannot be granted a church funeral unless we have shown signs of repentance before death.
- Are ineligible to become a godparent.
- Cannot marry in the Catholic Church without special dispensation.
Can you go back?
Should you have a change of heart, the process is reversible. According to the letter, the Church invites anyone wishing to re-join to contact their parish or the Catholic Faith Information Centre, provided they can offer “good reasons” for their return.
"Even if the Church as such – and not just individual representatives – is flawed and guilty, there are still reasons to remain in the Church, including to criticise it, according to the motto 'act instead of leaving'," explains the information sheet.
And it seems my next opportunity to reconsider my decision is already approaching.
The letter from the Vicar General informed me that, “the pastor of the parish to which you belonged based on your place of residence…will contact you shortly to offer you a personal conversation.”
“Through baptism,” he concluded, “you remain connected to Jesus Christ even after your departure. May He accompany you on your future path in life.”
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