Whenever visiting my parents, both mom and dad have independently decided to use Debbie as a way to say things to me asynchronously; thus avoiding a direct confrontation and our inevitable argument. On our most recent trip, I was passing kidney stones and having fun with a ureter stent, so there was plenty of time for them to talk to me while I was out of immediate earshot.
The one that really stuck with me, however, was mom worrying about how I lost my values and beliefs when studying Philosophy. Dad, I’m sure, feels the same way… after all he sent me a comic version of the Bible for Christmas. On one hand, they’re kinda right–studying Philosophy did break me and force a total rethink of who I was and what I believed, but it asks that of anyone who wishes to step out of the cave and into the bright light of real knowledge; that’s not a side-effect, it’s the entire point–however, several classmates went through college, and even the same major, without completely giving up on their faith. Maybe I could have done that too… but, as they both choose to ignore whenever this topic is breached, it was my theology courses and experiences at our family church that turned me away from the faith for good; not philosophy.
So, why not dig into how/why once again? (And if you’re reading this, hi mom/dad!)
The first big problem with my faith back in 2004 is that it wasn’t mine. I didn’t pick the church or denomination we went to. I couldn’t pick who the pastors or youth group leaders were. I didn’t have a say in what kind of faulty logic was shoved down my throat. It was all external stimuli that, over years, I learned how to echo in a fairly convincing way, like a parrot sitting on someone’s shoulders munching crackers. And like most kids, that’s the reason your first few semesters at college instigate a crisis of faith: it’s the first time you have to take ownership and responsibility for your own beliefs. Your community of dopplegangers isn’t there to back you up and reinforce your brainwashing at every possible crisis of faith, and if someone asks a follow-up question, you run out of phrases to repeat.
On top of that lack of familiarity, college expects you to think and defend yourself, a complete 180 from the daycare experience of high school where you are trained to take standardized tests and follow the leader. Your classmates don’t help defend you, or offer helpful distractions, because everyone but the professor is having a crisis of their own.
My belief system was a threadbare patchwork of circular reasoning, parental pressure, and conservative Baptist fear-mongering. It couldn’t hold up to even the most friendly levels of scrutiny let alone real investigation. Even if I chose to believe in some version of Christianity, it would require a lot of renovation. So, as I started to look for my own faith, and build something that I could believe in, defend, and maintain, I continually came up short in terms of places that practiced my version of religion. The problem I kept having was that the church system in America is not set up for spiritual investigation or academic readings of the scripture; it’s focus is appealing to the widest possible audience and to make people feel good week after week. They have to fill the pews every Sunday in order to pass a plate around to collect offerings. It’s church via capitalism; less of a support network and more of a business. So I stopped going because it made me feel bad and only led to arguments, which made other people feel bad, too.
When it was time for me to pick an internship for my “Christian Thought and Heritage” minor, I didn’t have anywhere nearby, so I chose my home church since it was the only place that I still felt sorta safe to be in. They had accepted me with a pink Mohawk and safety-pinned blazer, so I was sure they’d accept my more radical leanings; even if they didn’t like them, they’d let me pursue my truth right? Wrong.
Instead, the youth leaders I grew up with complained to our head pastor that I was teaching kids heresy. I wasn’t even teaching it, just answering questions with a more open-ended thoughtful discussion than they were used to; but that was too far. I was asked to end my internship, stop speaking to the kids about my faith, and when I left my head pastors office that day and walked out of the church, it was the last time I stepped foot in a place of worship willingly. And I never spoke to my pastor or went back to that church again.
The type of faith I could still muster to believe in, and what got me in trouble, was a mixture of Process and Liberation Theology. The crux of both boils down to an idea that the essential attribute of God is Her experience of time as we perceive it. Capital G god has to be in, and effected by, time instead of outside of it because She must have a central deciding trait among all of her proclaimed superpowers; a trump card of sorts that chooses whether forgiveness or justice is picked at any given time. Process/Liberation theologians choose love as that central trait, and if She is all loving, She can’t exist outside of our time and space, detached from Her creation… and She can’t be playing tricks on us and faking a change of mind or heart, it’s gotta be real. We can change God and She can change us.
As you can probably guess from my story, that’s somewhat controversial in a conservative Baptist church. Why? Well first off God is supposed to be a man, which makes no fucking sense at all. And second, She is supposed to be almighty and indifferent. Unchanging. Omnipresente. Omnipotente. Etc etc etc…
But when you read the actual Bible, it’s full of stories where God changes Her mind or seemingly goes back on Her word (eg: sacrifice your only son Abraham, whoa hold up I was only kidding!). Either She is kinda cruel and fucks with her believers, or is able to be changed by us. Why would an all-powerful, all-knowing, all-just, being change their mind? The answer that made sense was that She was all-loving first and foremost, and that meant Her compassion came before other all-powerful attributes. She was in time with us and thus tested people to see their true heart show itself through action.
But that’s not a belief you can just have without arguments, being thrown out of churches, and called a lost soul or non-believer; so as I kept trying to make excuses for a spiritual text that contradicted itself, was obviously pieced together by mortal beings with an agenda, and a church that was corrupt to its core… I just gave up belief/faith and treated the gospels like I would any philosophical text. I found the core of Jesus teachings to be the only thing worth salvaging and dropped the rest of the shit written by people about people.
I don’t believe in god, but I like the teachings of Jesus in the same way I like the teachings of the Buddha. There is truth in the gospels, lessons that can be applied from Jesus’ life, but it’s not a faith worth salvaging 2000 years after his death. Within decades, Jesus’ own followers bastardized his teachings, founded institutions that would create more suffering than good in the world, and that’s the legacy the Church still has to deal with. That’s why I don’t appreciate comic book Bible as a Christmas gift, because I’ve read the real thing front to back. I studied its history, theology, and construction. I know what the Bible is and that’s why I left.
Philosophy wasn’t what killed my faith, but what saved my life. It helped me find Truth absent of opinion and led me to non-scripture text that provided support and depth to my convictions. Sure, parts of my beliefs are still probably rooted in things I learned from the Bible, but most of it is reframed by now. The golden rule, for example, seems like such a selfish and closed-minded approach to interacting with others. It’s core message is that everyone in the world is secretly like you, and how you’d want to be treated is a universal good; but that’s not the case. Cultures differ wildly and so do generations. Instead, my golden rule is to treat others as THEY would like to be treated. Is that blasphemous? Probably, but it’s also an improvement.
And you know what? If there really is an afterlife, I can’t imagine going to the bad place while Reagan, Bush, and Trump voting Republicans go to a good one. And if that’s really is how it works, that anyone who believes in capital G god and his kid who died on a cross gets into eternal glory, then I don’t want to be part of your racist-ass heaven, anyway.
Instead, send me straight to hell with the philosophers, activists, and artists who demanded more from themselves and others while actually improving the damn place. We’ll make fire and brimstone look like a damn utopia without you selfish asshats ruining it for everyone.
/endrant
