The Politics of Religious Zealots

The office I work in has an array of religious beliefs and backgrounds. Yes, it is one of those weird offices where we talk religion, politics and gossip like crazy. We usually tend to respect each other’s beliefs and practices – well except when Yankee fanatic changed from Assembly of God to Seventh Day Adventist. Now don’t get me wrong I respect the Seventh Day faith – I dislike that it creates a Saturday workload for others of us. But other than that Yankee is very knowledgeable about all things Biblical – he is only a small bit zealous in his faith.

In our midst we have said Seventh Day Yankee, a reformed Baptist, an agnostic, a Jehovah Witness, and me the sliding Quaker. We have some very interesting conversations and when in life I hear a philosophy that baffles, confuses, or confronts me and I’m on ignorant ground or worse at a loss I bring my questions to work and get a forum of views, interpretations, and beliefs. It gives me food for thought and different views. All’s good.

I try very hard to not be judgmental, but of late I’ve noticed I’m losing the battle. I believe this started with editing Natalie’s books, I’ve learned so much about the history and abuses of the Mormon Church. But it’s not just Mormons. There are all the zealots in the world who believe their religion is the only religion. Bunk. Religion in theory is good, to follow the tenants of religion and faith is good, but man uses religion to rule, abuse, deride, divide and abuse. Religion should be good, cleansing, enlightening; man has made it oppressive and hateful. The majority of deity believing men (read mankind) believe in the same god, but the rules by which they believe is as dividing as color, gender, and sexuality based hatreds. The Seventh Day Yankee once called the JW brainwashed. Now there in truth is argument against both of them, but again it’s not being able to accept another’s beliefs and appreciate their dedication. Oh, and Seventh Day Yankee did apologize.

Of late the JW’s must be deep in their “It’s the end of days” seminars because that’s what I’ve heard a lot lately. Since the day I replied, “You think this is bad? You ain’t seen nothing yet” I just listen and don’t say much. Except the other day she made a comment about her son being in a mixed relationship and she hopes it doesn’t last. Wow, considering some of the turmoil in her extended family you would think she’d embrace her son’s girl (whom she likes) who likes her. But no she’s concerned there could be a mixed marriage. She likes this girl, but because she’s just a Christian and not a JW this can’t be. So I asked her, “You’d rather him be alone for all of his life, than fall in love with someone not in his religion?” That is exactly what she would prefer – I was dumb struck, no really I was. And worse she provided me with the best comeback possible, but I didn’t think of it for at least an hour. She married a non practicing Lutheran and that worked out just fine.

The Seventh Day Yankee is part of a group who is bringing Messiah’s Mansion to Florence. Messiah’s Mansion is a replica of the Mosaic Arc of the Covenant (carried through the mid-eastern desert by the Israelites) built by Biblical standards as mentioned in the Old Testament. Everything within the walls of the display are placed with specific purpose as used by the rabbis of the day. While this isn’t something that interests me, I can see where it would many people of varying faiths and beliefs. Some will find it spiritual, others will find it historical (I would find it boring) but apparent JW has a big problem with it religiously (one I’ve not been privileged, lucky me.) It’s raining in Florence, surprise, so of course they are now looking for some additional cover for certain areas in the park where they will greet people. I suggested to Seventh Day Yankee that he ask JW if they could borrow her canopy. He kind of seemed hesitant but took my advice.

I’m sorry, truly I am that I suggested it because this is what I heard.

SD Yankee: “You have a canopy don’t you? Would it be possible to use it down at the park so they don’t get wet at Messiah’s Mansion?”

JW: “If it wasn’t for a religious purpose you could, but I don’t want anyone thinking I support the display.”

Surely my jaw was gaping to the floor. I’ve yet to figure out what would be offensive to a Christian about the display, non-Christian it’s possible. I apologized to Seventh Day Yankee. But I’m still confused, baffled, and becoming more judgmental. I don’t like that.

Sith,
Cele

Talk Thursday - What Brings Me To Pieces; What Brings Me To Peace

It finally hit me today, something that pissed me off, so incredibly much that I wanted to scream at the world. Supposed Christian’s picketing the funeral of a fallen solder. How insensitive and base can a person get? Let alone a person who is supposed to live their life based on Christian morals? I DON’T FUCKING GET IT. Well there goes my attempt to keep from cussing.

Yes, I believe in God. The Bible has a lot of history, a lot of parables, a multitude of psalms, and oh those pesky rules and laws. To borrow a line from Scrooge, “Bah Humbug.” I don’t believe in the Bible as the word of God… “just because it tells me so.” I’m sorry, I don’t – can I point to contradictions and reasons why I don’t, you bet. But I do believe in your right to do so. But if you do, please, don’t pick and choose the parts you want to live by, the parts you don’t, and then yell at the top of your lungs hateful, insightful, condemning, ignorant things (that break a whole gob of rules.) If you’re going to live by the law of the Bible, abide it. And yes I know I’m going to hell because I have a tattoo, news flash I’m getting another one shortly. If your God sends me to hell because of it, well news flash, I don’t believe in hell. My God has more important things to worry about I’m sure. I’ve been here before, in the words of McArthur and Arnold, “I’ll be back.”

What gives these people the right to intrude upon a family’s grief? Not a thing beyond their self-righteous indignation. They believe God has enough free time on his hands to hate, to let people die because of hate, to do things to people because they dare to be, and to have chosen us and place our issues above anyone else in the world. Get over yourselves because if you’re living by the edict of the Bible the chosen were Jewish, lived in a hot barren hell-hole and definitely were not American. Get over yourselves, get over your “interpretations” and live your life, not someone else’s. Get over your hatred – hatreds based on pure ignorance.

Next put yourself into a grieving mother’s sorrow, a mourning father’s grief and live a moment in their shoes. Would you accept some atheist zealot screaming indignant epitaphs during your hour of sorrow because you choose to believe? Na, na, na, don’t get self-righteous put yourself in their shoes and then get over yourself.

What brings me peace? The universe. Knowing there are good people, good powers, good intentions in the universe that will stand in the face of insanity and find peace. I am glad I am graced with the intelligence to want to learn what I do not understand, to conquer ignorance, and to live in harmony.

Sith,
Cele

Life is Leap of Faith

Of late my family has been a bit bemused or curious at the description or definition of my faith. My faith and belief in God is firm. But, I assure you, not necessarily in the way a “church” or maybe even my upbringing taught me. Although in all fairness to my mom, she didn't really instill a specific belief in me, she let me discover my beliefs myself.

The Bible, to me is a history – not a verbatim, because it told me so. I believe it was inspired by the love of God, not by his mandate. I do believe the words in red are worth their weight in gold. The Golden Rule wasn't taught by Jesus alone, I will not go to hell/purgatory/the Outer Darkness (which I don't believe in) because I have a tattoo, get shots with needles, a blood transfusion, believe in a woman's right to chose, have friends who are sexually active with their own sex, or eat meat on Fridays (Fast Food Friday's requires beef or chicken prepared in an unhealthy way.)

I can not believe in a God who hates and condemns based on birth, sanctions hate, or rewards people who loudly go to church Sunday after a night (week) of living other than rightly. I do not, absolutely refuse to, believe that God “does things to us.” To me that is a belief that is just wrong on so many levels, I am sure it works well for a multitude of churches who want their parishioners whipped into line. How can people believe they are good when they treat others unfairly, cruelly, in hatred, and believe they are above others? I cannot believe that way.
Yes, this post is all about me. It is not about you, although maybe discussions with you have made me rethink my position (which is a very good thing.) Maybe this post (and I) will anger you. Maybe it will make you think about your own personal norms, mores, and foundations. If so, excellent.

When I was in my 'tweens my little brother died. It was a surprise, because no one saw it coming. I remember the morning my father gathered us in the darkened living room to say my mother was in the hospital, and that David was not born healthy. Pinecone and I both remember him saying David was born “too blue” and with holes in his heart. My mother does not remember this. What I do know is that David's death brought us together as a family. God did not take David to make us a stronger family, God had nothing to do with his passing. But I do believe that how we reacted to his death makes all the difference in the world. There were lessons, lessons to be taken to heart, embraced, and made into my own beliefs. I honor my brother's passing with this tradition, that I should find the silver lining in all things.

To hold the sorrows and why- me's to my bosom (although a mighty bosom it be) is not me, does not make sense. I don't blithely write people off when they are done on this plane, I keep them with me daily, then are never far. But I know that passing is a part of life, it is the inevitable conclusion to birth. I know in my heart that I will see them again, they can see me now, and finally they are without pain and horror. I do not leave them any day without telling them I love them and appreciate them. For I know I may not see them again in this life.
Sith,
Cele

A Difference Of Lives

Has your upbringing ever come up and smacked you in the face? Come on face it, we’re all different. We all have little twist to our values. Little things that mean something to us, and other things that we just don’t get. I’m not an in time person. I am late on a lot of things, like birthdays, even Christmas presents. I will send an email that says Happy Birthday, Merry Christmas very much on time. Well, except for the physical Christmas cards, they turn into Happy New Years cards. And those ever important thank you’s notes, well the phone calls came on time, but the mailed cards and notes...way late.

These little differences of mine over, say your’s, my husband’s, my friend’s, or a total stranger’s has come into focus over the past few years and caused me both pause and consideration. My birthday doesn’t mean a lot to me, it’s usually another day. But your birthday, wow, it means a lot to me, and if you’re with me –physically--I will lavish you on that day and do my best to make you feel as special as you are. But my poor brother and his family still haven’t gotten the gifts for their 2007 birthdays. It’s not that I don’t love them, it’s that I’m a failure at getting things figured out, bought, and the most important part…shipped in a timely fashion. Their email birthday cards… arrived on time. My sister and I always laugh about how late we are getting our gifts to each other, it is a prime source of our amusement, and you know what it doesn’t bother me, but others, oy!

My family doesn’t do funerals. When my father died in December, no funeral, no memorial, no wake, but I light a candle for him and tell him hello, goodnight when I blow it out, and will ask him questions out of the blue, then close my eyes and listen for the answer with my heart. On the other hand like most people, my husband’s family does the whole big thing, then at Christmas time they take it a whole giant leap further with a tree at the cemetery, decorated, little lights, and play Christmas carols. See what I mean by big difference? I find it a bit over the top, but it is their belief and I honor that, who am I to say who’s right or … different? And Ducky has come to appreciate the no funeral thing a little bit, too.

I’m not a phone person, really I find myself at odds when I know I have to make a call. I can put it off for weeks. You can’t do anything else when you’re on the phone, so you sit there and listen, talk, listen and accomplish nothing, but touching bases. I know that sounds cold of me doesn’t it? But then you have to understand I’m extremely bad at small talk. When we meet, if I ask you about your job or work it is for two reasons 1) I have no clue as to what I should ask you 2) it’s because I’m really interested in you and your job. I mean it’s you. When we get to the weather then you know I’m running out of topics of dialogue. But my husband and his sisters, my brothers and my sister too… all phone people. I am away for more than 20 minutes and Ducky already has three phone calls under his belt. He constantly harps on me to call my mother, has my daughter called and if not (which usually she hasn’t) why not?…er because she’s not a phone person like me. The other day I answer the phone at work and their is a guy on the other line, and excuse me, but I am pretty damn sure he was in the bathroom.

I guess for the most part what bothers me is when we judge another and find them lacking based on our own oddities. I once had a friend, Twinkie, who came out to me, all his life he felt he’d been trapped in a man’s body and was going to begin living his life as a woman. I felt terrible for him and could offer him nothing more than my support and understanding, and to keep his confidence. Two months later he cornered my friend's wife and told her all his problems, which is his right. Later when I admitted I’d know about Twinkie’s decision and had not told, my bo...er friend was furious with me. I honored my friend’s wishes; it was not my secret to tell and what good would telling anyone have done? None, it would have done no good. Where he is today I have no clue, he walked away from Florence after his family walked away from him. But the point was that for one person keeping their secret is good, but telling another’s is good too. Huh?

My mother raised us in a very even Steven manner (do you capitalize Steven when you write even steven?) even down to our Christmas list. If she spent $35 (remember this was back in the ’60) on one child (and she had four) she spent $35 on each child. She is that way to this day. I myself am the same way; it just seems fair. No favoritism, even Stephen (maybe you spell with a capitol but Stephen instead of Steven, or steven) and all is well. But I have one child who USE to count everything in volume. So weird.

I have more than one extended family member who is atheist or what they call atheist. I get extremely tired of being told my beliefs are rubbish? They are my beliefs, I don’t tell them their beliefs are rubbish, they would be highly offended if I did, but they have the right to shove their belief repeatedly down my throat. Huh? And what they base their belief that my thoughts are rubbish is on misinformation, but if you try to show them that, then you are trying to start an argument. Whatever. Personally to me it is ignorant, arrogant bullying.

And this one last rant. What about people who claim they are vegetarians because eating meat is cruelty to animals? But they wear leather boots, have leather couches (yes plural), and suede coats? And I’m the sick one.

Oh, I have a headache.
Love
Cele

Tilting at the Windmills of My Mind

Do you have those moments, minutes, hours, weeks where you wonder if and where you fit into the scheme of things? Lately the hum of my mind, stuck in some cerebral groove like an old 33½ rpm, has been driving me crazy. I know what began this latest spiral of self-doubt and knowing that it is probably a light form of depression is half the battle. But, despite that knowing, I am still tilting at the windmills of my mind.

How do you make yourself see your worth? Know that you’re not just an albatross around the neck of those you want as your friends? I have no clue. Well really I don’t, but the sane part of me screams at the tilting part to take them at face value. I have great friends. Friends, who would not willingly harm me, would not willingly say something hurtful – even in their own pain. I am blessed. My husband, daughters, grandson, parents, and dog all love me. I am blessed.

Recently I’ve come to realize that in some respects many of my friends and family are in the same uncharted waters where I am barely treading to keep my head above. Many are ex-Mormons (friends, not family,) trying to figure out where they belong in the world. How to deal with their personal beliefs, their spiritual beliefs, and the lies and truths of their birth religion? I am blessed because, while I did leave my birth religion, I left because I needed to feel important to my beliefs and them to me. I needed to be true.

Christmas morning when I was twelve, I proudly sat in the choir loft singing with all the love I have inside me at the joy of Christ birth. My belief in Jesus Christ, my Lord Redeemer has always brought me to tears. So to be sitting there with my siblings that Christmas morning, having chosen church over opening presents, I was shocked into reality to find the choir berated from the pulpit for anxiously wanting to be at home opening presents instead of singing for the Lord. Well this wasn’t so for me, weeks before I’d snuck into my mom’s closet to see what I was getting. It was no big secret to me; see I really had chosen church that Christmas morning. I know you think my reasoning is convoluted. Don't despair, deviousness does have its pain.

Our previous minister and his family had been relocated after a decade ministering to our membership. So this special Christmas morning message of not measuring up to the Lord was brought to us by a new fire and brimstone, Bible thumping minister who must have failed to realize which type of Presbyterian Church he had signed on to. I cried all the way home and after a wonderful Christmas celebration had a heart felt discussion with my parents.

As I said, I was raised Presbyterian, but it wasn’t until a year ago that I came to even realize my father doesn’t believe Jesus is the Son of God. You could say the pronouncement, that Saturday morning, at my parent’s breakfast table left my mother and me… well, speechless. A rare occasion to say the least, and even more confusing in the light of what happened that Christmas day some forty years before. My mother and father had sat and listened intently to my problem and offered up the solution that, at the age of twelve, I could begin my discovery of other religions and faiths and chose which fit me best. Both of my parents backed my decision with the condition that I must go to church each Sunday. And no, Saturday Mass didn’t count, I had to go to Sunday Mass too. Ouch.

Wow, I can hardly imagine what my Ex-Mormon and Ex-Catholic friends would think at this proclamation in their lives. The church I’d been raised in was just two city blocks away from our house, and was one of many on a long stretch of La Mirada Blvd. So from the Presbyterian Church I went to the Baptist Church (whoa, not for me) skip the Friends Church, go to Mass with my cousin, to the Pentecostal Church with a friend whose Bible thumping father was the minister – it was good entertainment, but I wasn’t sure where God and I fit into the scheme of things. At Girl Scout camp we had a lovely, non-denominational, folk music based service (my fav.)

Finally I went and tested the waters of the Friends Church. When they spoke they were warm, inviting, and thought the same way I did. That the light of God was inside me, that I mattered in the scheme of God and the world. I’d found my home. That’s not to say I was a faithful Friend from day one, no, I am a child of the 60s and 70s. I have been a slut, a druggie, a loner, and very human, but I know that God still loves me. That Jesus died for me; I know that the eternal light of God shines inside each and everyone of us if we let it. That ever, loving light was mine.

Am I a good Quaker? Not very, I don’t attend meetings nearly often enough, I am not strong enough in my convictions to stand up in a fight of wills. When it comes to knowing the Bible and its verses I am terrible. I can not quote verse and scripture, and it’s not that I won’t go look them up, not that I don’t read the Bible, and not that I don’t believe in what is there – because I do, but because I know enough for me. I live fully on the belief that I should not judge other people, that I am loved for me, and that my religion is Jesus and is between me and God, and that violence against another – either personal or as a community is a crime against the nature of Christ.

The Bible charges us to witness to others. Unlike Jehovah Witnesses, Mormons, or some Baptist I don’t believe this means peddling my religion door to door. I find that vulgar and rude. To me it means being prepared to listen and discuss my beliefs with someone in their time of need. Or even my time of need. To give them succor and lighten their load, to show them the light inside of themselves.

I am distressed when I see my friends, new and old, ravaged by the lies of their religion. So devastating the realizations, that their faith is often tested and found wanting. Religions where the Church and those who run them have literally become more important that the God they are suppose to serve. When the power and money has corrupted those who serve, that they have become a force unto themselves.

In Genesis God create heaven and earth. He created man and woman, maybe not on an even playing field, but both were created along with the beast, birds, and bees. Oh, and those horrid little snakes. In Leviticus he handed down the laws of the Old Testament to Aaron and the Rabbis, laws for the serving Rabbis of the time that have spurred the basis of hatred over the millenniums. And with the beginning of a new age, God leveled the playing field with the birth, death, and resurrection of his son Jesus. He wrote two news laws that null and void all that went before and gave a gift of salvation equal to all, no man is placed above woman, no woman is placed above man – equality in salvation.

I weep that people once faithful to God have had their foundations destroyed by religion, a destruction so deep it rents the fabric of their daily lives, crushes their spirit, and questions all that they are, all that they believe. I will over come my depressions, because I am strong elsewhere. I hope they too will over come and see the strength and peace that comes from the light with in, the light of the Lord.
Sith.