Not “the church” and certainly not my church. Remember, I’m Episcopalian. The priest who performed the mass which brought me out of near catatonia years ago and my current priest are both women. Believe me, I’m no fan of the Catholic church earlier. I had a chance to convert many years ago when I was madly in love with and engaged to a Catholic man. I told him I wouldn’t because, while I’m a reasonable Episcopalian, I’d make a lousy Catholic. I agree with pretty much everything you said, except possibly busing kids to church-schools and I suspect that if I gave it some serious thought, I’d come to agree with you on that, too.
To be honest, a theocracy terrifies me, too. It’s not just that I’m in favor of birth control being readily accessible, abortion being legal, and both topics being none of the government’s damn business. It’s not even that one of my closest friends and one of the finest people I know is a Wiccan. It’s that I’ve also seen religion used to bludgeon those of us who are different into conforming or destroy us and I’ve seen it used to destroy free, independent thinking.
I was lucky. The Episcopal church in my small town, one which you will never read about in the newspapers, or so I hope, gave a weird, lonely kid a place to belong and taught her a theology which depicted Christ as one who hung out with the lonely, outcast, and too damned weird to fit in anywhere. It gave me hope when I really didn’t have any. My parents were emotionally abusive to a degree which shocks friends of mine. My school was worse. Church was the only place I could go and not be called “useless”, “worthless”, a “waste”, etc. I’m pretty sure if I’d gone to any other church in town, I wouldn’t have had even that. If I’d survived, something I won’t give you long odds on, I’d be right there with you and Scott_plaid denouncing the evils and hypocrisies of Christianity. Odds are, though, I’d be long dead of suicide induced by sever clinical depression. That’s one of the main reasons I fight so hard against the Fundamentalists and the bigots and the people who say “You must be just like one of us or you’re a hell-bound sinner.” That’s not going to happen and, if I am indeed hell-bound, at least I’m going in good company. I’ll bring the marshmallows.
That’s one reason I have to stay within my church and my faith – to make sure the next kid who comes along who’s too lonely, too worthless, and too damn weird to fit in anywhere has somewhere where he or she can. Damn it, I won’t shut up, even though you tell me too, even though the Fundamentalists tell me too, even though my own parents would be happier if I did. Christianity, specifically Anglicanism, gave me a place to go when no one else would. Yes, I know too many, maybe even most churches won’t. Maybe if they had, a kid in Montana wouldn’t have fallen in with white supremacists and shot up a school a few weeks ago. I will, by the way, be speaking out within my denomination about that. I wish I had a better way to carry the message further.
I appreciate the compliment that I’d probably be a good person even if I weren’t a Christian. The thing is, Christianity provides things that I don’t have a reasonable substitute for. There’s a pot of flowers sitting on a stool near me as I speak. They were sent to me a week ago by the rector my church; I’d gone back to my hometown for Easter Sunday and, despite the fact that I go to a rather large church, they’d missed me. For someone who’s used to being overlooked and dismissed, that’s a very pleasant surprise. I was in Dayton over the weekend and, as I approached the hotel, I passed an Episcopal church. It was rather nice knowing I could walk in, a stranger, and be welcomed. I have wonderful friends and a change to sing truly beautiful, intricate choral music. Now, I admit that, in my case, the local branch of the SCA could supply that last, but, frankly, the local SCAdians are a lot more pretentious than the local Episcopalians. Then again, the local SCAdians are apparently an abberation. It also give me an organized, concrete way to do good. I can basically multiply my own efforts to do good or help multiply the efforts of others, and not feel like a complete fool for wanting to do so. I’m a do-gooder at heart. Even at my age, I still genuinely want to change the world and make it better. I know a lot of people scoff at that and consider it a waste of time. After all, what can one person do? Not much, maybe, but I still can’t help but believe that enough people working together can do something and even my attempts, even when they fail, are still better than nothing.
Excuse me. I suspect I’m rambling.
CJ