An Encounter with My Own Religious Hysteria
My lady has been feeling the desire to be part of a church; possibly because I sent her an article about the benefits of group singing. I can’t really protest this, as I’m strongly committed to my own equivalent (Aikido); but it rings alarm bells in my head. I’ve never yet met a church I agreed with sufficiently to feel comfortable there, and I very much do not want my children absorbing someone else’s theology before they’re old enough to think critically about the topic (ie. before they absorb at least some of my own theology). But they do need a larger social circle, as does my wife; and I’m not the only one whose religious leanings matter in the family. So last Sunday we visited a church.
The facility was jaw-dropping. They clearly have some serious money coming in from somewhere, and they get immediate points in my book for spending so much of it on child-friendly projects. They have playgrounds (outdoor and indoor), a volley-ball court, a disc-golf field, etc, etc, etc. The child-care facilities have little child-size doors into the rooms (which the elder kid immediately recognized as designed for him), and everyone we met genuinely seemed to like children. As bribes go, this is a very effective approach.
The music was fun - they have their own band, and people feel uninhibited enough to sing along, sway and gesture, or just sit and listen, as they are moved to do. I saw a pleasant variety of ages and ethnicities represented, and people showed up in a variety of different dress codes, and the preacher repeatedly talked about the Greek or Latin derivation of particularly significant words. All good things.
The first and lesser reason was the relentless cheerfulness of everyone we met towards the visiting newbies. This is the lesser reason because it would have been very difficult for them to avoid - everyone wants to be welcoming. But I can’t turn off my warning system, nor forget my knowledge base; and that style of cheerfulness inescapably brings up associations of cults and brainwashing tactics. That probably says more about me than it does about them.
The second, and larger, reason for my increasing twitchiness was the theology of the minister. It’s nothing unexpected - mainline contemporary non-denominational Protestant - but then, that’s why I’ve never felt comfortable in churches. Everyone is so damn sure that their truth is the only Truth. Examples:
In placing Paul’s letter to the Corinthians in historical context, the minister described Corinth as a city of endemic corruption, and one of his examples was the temple prostitutes of Aphrodite, who was herself described as one of the, “false gods of the Greeks.” I think there’s a real conversation that can be had about sexuality and religion, and the reason I identify to a greater extent as Christian than Grecian pagan is that I find more truth in the one than in the other; but I would never speak of someone else’s sacred practices as intrinsically corrupt, nor their deity as, “one of the those false gods.”
In illustrating how people tend to accept little sins as not worth noticing, he cited a research study of what bugs people hire exterminators to kill. Apparently only 27% hire an exterminator to, “remove,” spiders; while 85% of us will do so for termites. To me, this is a dangerous analogy on a number of levels. Firstly, it implies that bugs and sins are somehow linked; suggesting that bugs are somehow morally repugnant. As if we don’t depend on them. As if things we find ugly or frightening are intrinsically less valuable. I don’t even like the idea of killing sin - as if smashing bits of myself against the wall is the route to being a better person. We don’t become better people through violence. We become better by courageously facing what we have done, and striving towards a healing. The irony is that I agree with his logic; I just go the other way. To me, there is value and purpose in accepting that there are sins in my life, just as there is value and purpose in accepting that there are bugs in my walls. The challenge is to live with them, heal the damage, and learn the lesson. Killing merely postpones those goals - and makes me a killer.
From the exterminator slide, the preacher segued into a biographical bit about a famous football player who had been quoted as saying that his goal was to be the best football player ever. This was in reference to a quote from Paul’s Letter in which he talks about religious development as a race to be won. We are all, apparently, to strive to become the best Christian ever. I don’t like this because it makes religion into a zero-sum game. I must strive to be a better Christian than you; in the great game of religion, someone will win -- and I ought to want it to be me. I don’t. I’d like to be a better person today than I was yesterday, and I’d like other people to regard me as the kind of person who really struggles to lead a life of kindness and compassion; but that’s as far as it goes. I just don’t see the value in making religion a contest; and, in fact, I see a lot of problems there.
Now the big one. In describing grace, he flashed the following quote on the screen: “Grace is getting what we don’t deserve; mercy is not getting what we do deserve.” I almost walked out of the church. I have children. What they deserve is love and compassion and forgiveness and support. What they deserve is mercy, and even grace - and they don’t deserve those things because of anything they have said or done but because they are fearfully and wonderfully made. I don’t ever want my children to believe that mercy is opposed to justice, or that grace is opposed to truth; most especially, I don’t want my children to believe that God is hovering over them with a clipboard and a ruler, waiting to see whether or not they will measure up. My children are the love of God made flesh. All of God’s children are the love of God made flesh. We are worthy because God does not make unworthy creatures.
The curious thing about all this, to me, is how strongly I reacted to it. I tend to have a very relaxed attitude towards physical injury - bruises and scratches heal, and the kids need to learn not to worry about minor injuries because temporary pain is an acceptable price for a fully-lived life and all that - but the prospect of any spiritual injury sends me into a complete tizzy. My lady points out that by my own logic, minor spiritual stresses (and the resiliency that comes from meeting them) may in fact be a valuable part of life; and that parents (ie. me) can’t avoid the responsibility for providing direct spiritual education to the kids, which would presumably include dealing with exactly this sort of issue. So part of my freak-out here may well be the unsettling realization that I am, in fact, a parent with parental responsibilities. Scary thought.
Meanwhile, my lady and I had an extensive conversation about all this, which was actually one of the best discussions of religious matters we’ve had in a long time. For that alone, it’s worth going back. We’ll see what next week brings. And, of course, they do have a great playground.
The facility was jaw-dropping. They clearly have some serious money coming in from somewhere, and they get immediate points in my book for spending so much of it on child-friendly projects. They have playgrounds (outdoor and indoor), a volley-ball court, a disc-golf field, etc, etc, etc. The child-care facilities have little child-size doors into the rooms (which the elder kid immediately recognized as designed for him), and everyone we met genuinely seemed to like children. As bribes go, this is a very effective approach.
The music was fun - they have their own band, and people feel uninhibited enough to sing along, sway and gesture, or just sit and listen, as they are moved to do. I saw a pleasant variety of ages and ethnicities represented, and people showed up in a variety of different dress codes, and the preacher repeatedly talked about the Greek or Latin derivation of particularly significant words. All good things.
The first and lesser reason was the relentless cheerfulness of everyone we met towards the visiting newbies. This is the lesser reason because it would have been very difficult for them to avoid - everyone wants to be welcoming. But I can’t turn off my warning system, nor forget my knowledge base; and that style of cheerfulness inescapably brings up associations of cults and brainwashing tactics. That probably says more about me than it does about them.
The second, and larger, reason for my increasing twitchiness was the theology of the minister. It’s nothing unexpected - mainline contemporary non-denominational Protestant - but then, that’s why I’ve never felt comfortable in churches. Everyone is so damn sure that their truth is the only Truth. Examples:
In placing Paul’s letter to the Corinthians in historical context, the minister described Corinth as a city of endemic corruption, and one of his examples was the temple prostitutes of Aphrodite, who was herself described as one of the, “false gods of the Greeks.” I think there’s a real conversation that can be had about sexuality and religion, and the reason I identify to a greater extent as Christian than Grecian pagan is that I find more truth in the one than in the other; but I would never speak of someone else’s sacred practices as intrinsically corrupt, nor their deity as, “one of the those false gods.”
In illustrating how people tend to accept little sins as not worth noticing, he cited a research study of what bugs people hire exterminators to kill. Apparently only 27% hire an exterminator to, “remove,” spiders; while 85% of us will do so for termites. To me, this is a dangerous analogy on a number of levels. Firstly, it implies that bugs and sins are somehow linked; suggesting that bugs are somehow morally repugnant. As if we don’t depend on them. As if things we find ugly or frightening are intrinsically less valuable. I don’t even like the idea of killing sin - as if smashing bits of myself against the wall is the route to being a better person. We don’t become better people through violence. We become better by courageously facing what we have done, and striving towards a healing. The irony is that I agree with his logic; I just go the other way. To me, there is value and purpose in accepting that there are sins in my life, just as there is value and purpose in accepting that there are bugs in my walls. The challenge is to live with them, heal the damage, and learn the lesson. Killing merely postpones those goals - and makes me a killer.
From the exterminator slide, the preacher segued into a biographical bit about a famous football player who had been quoted as saying that his goal was to be the best football player ever. This was in reference to a quote from Paul’s Letter in which he talks about religious development as a race to be won. We are all, apparently, to strive to become the best Christian ever. I don’t like this because it makes religion into a zero-sum game. I must strive to be a better Christian than you; in the great game of religion, someone will win -- and I ought to want it to be me. I don’t. I’d like to be a better person today than I was yesterday, and I’d like other people to regard me as the kind of person who really struggles to lead a life of kindness and compassion; but that’s as far as it goes. I just don’t see the value in making religion a contest; and, in fact, I see a lot of problems there.
Now the big one. In describing grace, he flashed the following quote on the screen: “Grace is getting what we don’t deserve; mercy is not getting what we do deserve.” I almost walked out of the church. I have children. What they deserve is love and compassion and forgiveness and support. What they deserve is mercy, and even grace - and they don’t deserve those things because of anything they have said or done but because they are fearfully and wonderfully made. I don’t ever want my children to believe that mercy is opposed to justice, or that grace is opposed to truth; most especially, I don’t want my children to believe that God is hovering over them with a clipboard and a ruler, waiting to see whether or not they will measure up. My children are the love of God made flesh. All of God’s children are the love of God made flesh. We are worthy because God does not make unworthy creatures.
The curious thing about all this, to me, is how strongly I reacted to it. I tend to have a very relaxed attitude towards physical injury - bruises and scratches heal, and the kids need to learn not to worry about minor injuries because temporary pain is an acceptable price for a fully-lived life and all that - but the prospect of any spiritual injury sends me into a complete tizzy. My lady points out that by my own logic, minor spiritual stresses (and the resiliency that comes from meeting them) may in fact be a valuable part of life; and that parents (ie. me) can’t avoid the responsibility for providing direct spiritual education to the kids, which would presumably include dealing with exactly this sort of issue. So part of my freak-out here may well be the unsettling realization that I am, in fact, a parent with parental responsibilities. Scary thought.
Meanwhile, my lady and I had an extensive conversation about all this, which was actually one of the best discussions of religious matters we’ve had in a long time. For that alone, it’s worth going back. We’ll see what next week brings. And, of course, they do have a great playground.