I saw this thread when it first appeared, looked at the video title, looked at the poster, and my first reaction was
I’ve been thinking about the topic a fair amount the past few days, though, and figured this was as good a medium as any to kick around my ideas for my own edification.
/inc wall o'textAt the outset, my parents were sort of typically religious. We went to church every Sunday (morning, not the evening service nor the Wednesday night one). Eventually, the standard petty machinations of small town church folk got them fed up, they left their original church, and for a bit, we just didn’t go. After a fateful visit from an enterprising new preacher at the local church who was making the rounds inviting the rural folk to Sunday services, they decided to give it a shot, and they threw themselves into the church whole-heartedly.
Sunday morning, Sunday night, Wednesday night, deacon meetings, sings, dinners (“eatin’s”, if you’re being proper), Vacation Bible School, homecomings…if the church doors were open, we were there. Mom taught Sunday school, was in the choir, and played the piano at night, Dad was a deacon (then head of the deacons), I ran the church sound system. The preacher and Dad were hunting buddies, and he befriended several other men at the church. My mother’s less social, but made sure to pitch in anywhere and everywhere she could help.
While I love my parents and think they’re amazing people, I’ve never been much like them in terms of interest. My dad is very smart, though he never went to college and simply farmed for the vast majority of his life, due largely to his abusive father. My mom was a schoolteacher. Still, this seemed important to them, and I was old enough that it was thus important to me, for them.
I remember the day I walked up to the front of the church and gave my personal declaration of faith. As sad as it is to admit, looking back on it now I can confirm what I felt in my heart: I didn't do because I’d heard the voice of God talking to me, filling me with a burning desire to fulfill His charges, but because I was getting into the older age bracket of kids in the church, and while I’d tried and tried and tried to wait, to hear the still, small voice of God moving within me, urging me to dedicate my life to Him…I just didn’t. I didn’t and I hated that I didn’t, but I felt an enormous weight on my shoulders every time the invitation was given (and since we were at every service the church offered, that was a lot of guilt; thank God I wasn’t Catholic). To my parents’ credit, they never pressured me, but it was borne of what the church would call a shared sense of community and what an outsider would clearly see is a forced adherence to the rules via social pressure. I did it out of obligation, plain and simple, real or imagined.
I’d committed to it, though. So I was going to be the best damned Christian I could be. Slowly, very slowly however, I just couldn’t keep sweeping the baffling inconsistencies and hatred for fellow human beings (this was in the ‘90s, just as Ellen announced she was gay on her show, which…brought out the best in the Protestant religions, let me assure you) under the mental rug. I couldn’t believe that a just and loving God would ever find love to be a bad thing, much less warrant the vitriol I was hearing three times a week from a man I knew to be otherwise kind, warm, and funny.
In…early high school? late middle school? somewhere in there, I remember a conversation with my parents over dinner, and I asked a question that every so slightly hinted that I was questioning my faith. Not doubting, mind, just…that some things didn’t quite seem to add up. My parents, despite the church and their religion being huge parts of their lives, thankfully never discussed theology (or politics) much, and that’s just fine by me. When my wife and I host Thanksgiving or Christmas, such topics are verboten in our home (football, too). They result in nothing but anger. But somehow the topic had been brought up, and I asked a question. My mother frankly snapped at me, saying “
You sound like you don’t believe.” I was a little taken aback, and replied “No, I’m not saying that at all, just that…I’m questioning, is all.” Her response, which has stuck with me to this day, was terse, yet final: “No, you’re not. You’re Christian, and that’s that.” It ended the discussion in her mind, and to be fair, it did it in real life, too. Declaring someone else’s religion by fiat still baffles and infuriates me, but I’ve seen it time and again.
Once upon a time, I was utterly baffled by the very concept of agnosticism. I was raised Southern Baptist, so I understood that. I understood atheism just fine. Believe, or don’t, it didn’t matter, but it seemed a binary choice to me. The existence of a higher power and creator (particularly, as a Protestant, a “personal” God, one who took a direct and pointed interest in each and every person’s individual life) seemed too big an issue to ignore.
Nowadays, though…I get it. Truly, I do. While I lean pretty heavily toward the atheist side, still I waffle, and I respect faith, but not religion. Even if I fell off of that fence I’m straddling, I don’t think I could ever go back fully to the way I was, though.
I can’t remember the exact circumstances, but it was very recent (within the last couple of years). It finally clicked in my head that I didn’t
have to believe in the religion in which I was raised. Logically, of course, I long knew that. Accepting it was a completely different matter.
You want to talk about a “road to Damascus” experience? That’s what I had at that moment. I swear, it was an audible “click”. I’m more convinced than ever that Proverbs 22:6 (“Train up a child in the way he should go; even when he is old he will not depart from it.”) isn’t a divine command, but merely the practice of psychology long before the term was coined. As human beings, we’re hardcoded to lean toward the familiar. Nostalgia is possibly the single biggest influence in decision-making, aside from maybe sexual attraction. And when you’ve had it drilled into you time and again that your very
soul is at stake if you don’t follow the rules in this ancient book
and don’t you dare
question them, have you no faith?, of course you’re going to default to blind adherence.
The great betrayal of the “truth” of Christianity is, to me, the statistics of other religions. With the exception of a minuscule percentage, you’re not Christian because God spoke to you, convinced you of His existence and you converted. You’re Christian because you’re surrounded by Christian culture, by Christian parents and family and friends, and it’s just the default. It’s hard to argue with that kind of constant affirmation that the religion you’ve “chosen” is the right one. If you were born in India, you’d (statistically) be Hindu, and you’d think nothing of it. If you’re born into a Christian family, there’s no reason to question it, and the very mechanics of the religion insist upon themselves so fully that there’s no
room to do so. Knowledge isn’t encouraged. Science is doubted. Facts, when in conflict with a 2,000-year-old book of mythology, are ignored with a baleful glare (I’m not even talking about evolution; you need look no further than the Young Earth Creationists for absolute proof of this).
It’s why wars have been fought, it’s why the church has such a hand in “family planning”, it’s why there are more churches than there are Starbucks: it’s all designed to propagate itself, just like any other system of control. The religion itself feels like a self-perpetuating delusion. You have no reason to believe, which of course
is the reason to believe, because what is belief without faith, and there can be no faith in the light of evidence. The story of Zacharias always seemed to be the zenith of this: A man (of faith) prays for a child, and a random dude comes up and says “You’ll have a kid and he’s gonna be great and people will follow him from miles around.” Zacharias’s polite and only mildly questioning reply (“How can I be sure of this? I am an old man and my wife is well along in years” angers the angel so that he strikes Zacharias mute for…reasons? I’m not sure that “lack of faith” is an applicable reason here. If you were praying in a hospital chapel and a random dude snuck up on you and started saying wild things (despite them being the wild things for which you were praying), I’m pretty sure it’s not a lack of faith that would make you think some crazy man had wandered in. It would be wholly unreasonable to accept him at his word, and frankly insane to not even ask “Are you sure?”
Many religious
people have done and continue to do a lot of good in the world. If your religion makes you a better person, a kinder and more generous and more thoughtful person, go for it. Just don’t use your religion to hurt people. And if your response to that is "But I'm just trying to
help them per the rules of my bible," please remember that what’s absolutely true for you is utter rubbish to someone else, and vice versa. Even within your own religion. If I remember correctly, arrogance isn't kindly looked upon by God, and I would imagine that believing yourself to be the arbiter of what the vaguely-worded ancient texts say ranks pretty highly on that scale.