The (apostate) Jew on Christmas
My housemate Jenny invited me to spend Christmas with her family rather than alone at the apartment, which was a nice thing to do and one that I'm grateful for, all the more since I enjoyed it, by and large, and expect to enjoy the next few days in the Gippsland countryside. Tomorrow we are off to the beach, and, naturally, I am excited.
It was a more eventful Christmas day than my usual, for some obvious reasons - the first of which concerning my first visit to a Baptist Church.
I'm not terribly comfortable in churches in general when I go to them, but a few things made this experience easier at first. It seemed to have been a special service that was low on prayer and high on singing Christmas songs. I happened to not participate because I'm not one to affirm that "Christ is Lord" or some such, as is the main lyrical theme of these songs, but I was otherwise friendly and polite with everyone I met, exchanging good wishes for the day and the upcoming new year.
My trip to the Baptist church was not without some cringe-inducing moments, most notable of which being the way that the sermon was opened.
Last night, when my housemate and I arrived at this country town, we dropped our stuff off at her parents' place and then went out to an evening of caroling in the local park. Again, I didn't participate in particular, but I did enjoy watching it. It was cancelled midway through due to heavy rain and electrical equipment that was not protected from the elements to any great degree.
Returning to this sermon, the person delivering it (who I am led to understand was not the pastor but seemed to be acting in that role in the absence of the actual pastor), opened the speech by expressing, a-propos of nothing, his dismay that avowed homosexuals participated in the previous night's caroling, wrongly expecting to partake in the grace of God. He said this with a combination of matter-of-factness and venom that disturbed me, leading me to wonder whether he considered the impression that he was making on the visiting strangers in his church, and how a homosexual person would (and should) react to that (not that I expect he cared).
I regret not confronting him right then and there, realizing that while I didn't want to embarrass Jenny's family, it was one of those situations where I shouldn't have let those sorts of statements go unchallenged. I might not always reach my moral standards, but I'm taking this as a chance to improve them in the future.
He then went on to rail a bit against the commercialization of Christmas and Santa Claus eclipsing Jesus, before getting on to his main message about the true meaning of Christmas. Perhaps not surprisingly, I was left with the impression that he totally missed the fucking point, and disqualified himself to speak about it before he started.
Naturally, this did not leave me a favorable impression of the man or the church, leaving me to ponder, rather than the rest of the sermon, how people could fuck up interpreting a message that's that simple, that badly. To my outsider's perspective, one might think that those without guilt should throw stones, rather than obviously bigoted authority figures misusing the platform of the pulpit.
I guess that the takeaway message from this is that there's a sense of complacency about thinking about morality that comes with this notion of Jesus dying for mankind's sins that's a breeding ground for some of the worst sorts of hypocrisy. One might have hoped that Christmas would serve as an opportunity to grapple with the implications of the Jesus story. I don't know what other people in that church silently thought and felt. I hope it was disgust, but I'm not so confident that it was.
The post-church day was actually really nice, replete with a great Christmas lunch with my housemate's family and a couple of guests, which stretched until about 8 PM with music-playing and singing (where I surprised everyone with my knowledge of Irish folk tunes [my housemate's father being of Irish descent]).
Being out in a country town also affords opportunities for stargazing, which Jenny and I did some of. I never saw that many stars, being so far from the light pollution of a city. I can't remember the last time I saw a shooting star (or several, as tonight), or made a wish upon one. I couldn't tell you what I wished for lest it not come true, but hey, let's all hope.
Have a merry Christmas, everyone, whether it's significant or just December 25th. But pause for a short time in your merriment to reflect upon the whole idea, and perhaps to ward yourself against that moral complacency.
It was a more eventful Christmas day than my usual, for some obvious reasons - the first of which concerning my first visit to a Baptist Church.
I'm not terribly comfortable in churches in general when I go to them, but a few things made this experience easier at first. It seemed to have been a special service that was low on prayer and high on singing Christmas songs. I happened to not participate because I'm not one to affirm that "Christ is Lord" or some such, as is the main lyrical theme of these songs, but I was otherwise friendly and polite with everyone I met, exchanging good wishes for the day and the upcoming new year.
My trip to the Baptist church was not without some cringe-inducing moments, most notable of which being the way that the sermon was opened.
Last night, when my housemate and I arrived at this country town, we dropped our stuff off at her parents' place and then went out to an evening of caroling in the local park. Again, I didn't participate in particular, but I did enjoy watching it. It was cancelled midway through due to heavy rain and electrical equipment that was not protected from the elements to any great degree.
Returning to this sermon, the person delivering it (who I am led to understand was not the pastor but seemed to be acting in that role in the absence of the actual pastor), opened the speech by expressing, a-propos of nothing, his dismay that avowed homosexuals participated in the previous night's caroling, wrongly expecting to partake in the grace of God. He said this with a combination of matter-of-factness and venom that disturbed me, leading me to wonder whether he considered the impression that he was making on the visiting strangers in his church, and how a homosexual person would (and should) react to that (not that I expect he cared).
I regret not confronting him right then and there, realizing that while I didn't want to embarrass Jenny's family, it was one of those situations where I shouldn't have let those sorts of statements go unchallenged. I might not always reach my moral standards, but I'm taking this as a chance to improve them in the future.
He then went on to rail a bit against the commercialization of Christmas and Santa Claus eclipsing Jesus, before getting on to his main message about the true meaning of Christmas. Perhaps not surprisingly, I was left with the impression that he totally missed the fucking point, and disqualified himself to speak about it before he started.
Naturally, this did not leave me a favorable impression of the man or the church, leaving me to ponder, rather than the rest of the sermon, how people could fuck up interpreting a message that's that simple, that badly. To my outsider's perspective, one might think that those without guilt should throw stones, rather than obviously bigoted authority figures misusing the platform of the pulpit.
I guess that the takeaway message from this is that there's a sense of complacency about thinking about morality that comes with this notion of Jesus dying for mankind's sins that's a breeding ground for some of the worst sorts of hypocrisy. One might have hoped that Christmas would serve as an opportunity to grapple with the implications of the Jesus story. I don't know what other people in that church silently thought and felt. I hope it was disgust, but I'm not so confident that it was.
The post-church day was actually really nice, replete with a great Christmas lunch with my housemate's family and a couple of guests, which stretched until about 8 PM with music-playing and singing (where I surprised everyone with my knowledge of Irish folk tunes [my housemate's father being of Irish descent]).
Being out in a country town also affords opportunities for stargazing, which Jenny and I did some of. I never saw that many stars, being so far from the light pollution of a city. I can't remember the last time I saw a shooting star (or several, as tonight), or made a wish upon one. I couldn't tell you what I wished for lest it not come true, but hey, let's all hope.
Have a merry Christmas, everyone, whether it's significant or just December 25th. But pause for a short time in your merriment to reflect upon the whole idea, and perhaps to ward yourself against that moral complacency.