If you're new to this, I suggest you go back and read parts one and two. Not sure this will make total sense otherwise.
They say never talk religion and politics. I hope I've offended no-one with this short series. To be quite honest, I've restrained myself to telling a story as much as possible. This does contain my opinions, but gently put.
Theology aside, I'm not particuarly happy with the writing in this part. Feel free to tell me where I've gone wrong.
Rejection
Imagine believing in God all your life. Imagine your own family’s brand of Christianity being at the centre of your existence. Imagine, being excluded from the special club at the age of ten by the supreme being. It all sounds a little melodramatic, but that was what it felt like. Mum and dad continued in their faith unabated, and why shouldn’t they, God hadn’t stuck two celestial fingers up at them. I was out in the cold. Worse still, I thought there was something wrong with me, perhaps I was of the devil or something.
The delicate workings of a ten year old mind can be pretty deep. I truly believed in God, but couldn’t communicate with Him and thought I’d been rejected. I went through my teens feeling like an outsider, both at home and at church. As the years went by my belief in God dwindled, but it wasn’t until I was an adult in my mid-twenties that I dared to tell myself that all I’d been brought up to believe was wrong. Before then, I still had a superstitious belief that I might be struck down dead. Although it was a cathartic moment, I was left feeling empty and cheated. What had I been doing for the last twenty-odd years? The best word to describe how I felt is angry.
Rediscovering Faith
Oddly enough, it wasn’t long after this that I went to live in a vicarage. There were complications with my landlady and I had to find somewhere to live, fast. I ended up moving in with an unmarried Church of England priest. (And no, I didn’t know him in the Biblical sense.) In other circumstances I would never have taken the rooms, but I was desperate and the lodgings were excellent and cheap.
Over time we became very good and close friends. It was him who balanced my theological unhappiness. He showed me that all Christians were not tunnel visioned, bigoted and narrow minded. He also showed me that the brand of religion I had grown up with was very different to his own and that of many other others. He never tried to convert me, nor did I voluntarily become converted, but I did rediscover my spirituality. For that, I will be forever in his debt.
Spirituality – where I am now.
Well I believe in god. Notice the lower case spelling. I don’t believe in God, I can’t. I’m not religious either, but there are times when I’ve felt at one with the earth or other humans. At these times I’ve felt a connection of some kind to something bigger and greater than me. This is what I call god. It’s not some big magician in the sky. It’s the very feeling (that’s not felt often enough) that makes us human. Not the large brain and opposable thumbs that have enabled us to achieve and destroy so much, but that uniquely human act of sacrifice for others.
I remember watching my son being born and then holding him and knowing I would do anything for this small, very new and vulnerable human being.
I guess what I’m saying in a very clumsy way, is that god is in all of us.
The Arrogance of Truth
Everyone has a right to believe what they like. I could argue against Christianity, but that is not what this is about. It doesn’t worry me anymore. At almost forty, I’m now very comfortable with my spiritual position. It’s taken a long time and a lot of heartache, but I’m there.
The old anger only wells when I hear the dogma I grew up with raise its ugly head. If you listen out for it, it’s everywhere. Fundamentalist believers of any religion swallow hook line and sinker some bastardised version of their chosen faith. They brook no argument or moderation because they believe their religious acts are more important than any other. God speaks to them directly and tells them what to do. What complete arrogance. They brook no possibility they might be wrong. An accident of birth and circumstance has led them to be chosen – or so they think.
I’ll leave you to fill the gaps - think about historical and modern atrocities carried out in the name of religion.
And it’s not just those little wars that have a nasty habit of joining hands and turning into something a little bigger. Think about the small details: the hypocrisy, the abuse, the fraud. It’s all there in the public domain. Sure, there’s a lot of good done in the form of charitable acts, but you only have to look at the huge wealth of the Church, Roman or Anglican, to see that it’s just a tiny fraction of what could be done.
What gets me most angry is when I hear someone twisting religion and using the psychology of guilt to manipulate others. I’ve been there and it screwed up my childhood.
Post script
In a previous post someona asked about my parents. My mum died a few years ago. The funeral wasn't easy. It was attended by many tambourine waving fundamentalists. The service itself was not much better. I had to restrain my brother from laying out a particularly insensitive example of the above. We both loved her very much.
Dad and I avoid talking religion most of the time. He has mellowed a lot, but still has some odd and difficult beliefs. He too is loved.
Someone else suggested this was a cathartic exercise. It wasn't. It was an exercise in restraint.
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Written by Fledermaus (3489 comments posted) 23rd December 2006 | An intersting auto-biographical piece, but it somehow makes me wonder: Why? What good is it to talk about religion except for the fun of a theological debate?
I remember clearly that I once asked a Hindu what the Hindu view on the Abrahamic God was. His answer surprised me, and I'm very sorry I can't remember the litteral words, for he had a perfect explanation as to why the question is completely irrelevant. It was something along the lines that believing in gods is something personal and that he simply didn't bother about other people's beliefs. He was interested in them, but he did not have an opinion.
The way I describe it it sounds a rather lame, but the way HE said it, it was by far the best remark I ever heard about religion...
I'm not sure where this one went wrong, but I supose it may have something to do with why it raises that question: Why are you telling this?
It's well written and interesting to read, but it leaves me wondering what the point behind it is... | I can tell you exactly where you went wr
Written by johniebg (553 comments posted) 23rd December 2006 | ... and you told us yourself. Restraint, but I guess your just not there yet.
My story is not a great deal different from yours, although my father was not greatly involved in personally bringing me up my mother found religion when I was 13 after seeing the reflection of the kitchen window in a cup of coffee and believing it to be a sign from god. I will not impart the horrors that were bestowed upon this child, who knew his own mind and refused to embrace her god, not feeding me for two days until I said grace was the least; I never did by the way.
The morality that my father and mother, school and society instilled into me from a very early age, left me feeling guilty for practically everything I did the first 30 years of my life. 30 years before I decided to turn my considerable intellect towards finding out the truth, which it sounds like your in the process of doing.
I went through a phase like this, when you think that people should be able to believe what they want, you work out your own thoughts and get your feet firmer on the ground. Over time though you realise that is the very thing about religion; while your looking at them with an open mind; they cannot help but impose their ancient morals and narrow minded judgements and their misplaced and weak kneed theological mindsets on others.
Time to fight back, the word is my sword, the army an accumulation of knowledge through history and understanding humanity with a smattering of science ...
Good stuff Phil, each one of these has left me clawing the table top, the things people do to children in the name of a god ... I don't recall a title: 'guilt', you hinted at it ...
ps I am actually a mostly balanced and fairly nice guy most of the week  |
Written by Phil (6963 comments posted) 23rd December 2006 | Thank you Fledermaus and Johnie.
Johnie, I think you are probably right. Restraint limited the scope of this. That's probably why Fledermaus is left asking, 'What's it for?'
I'd forgotten about guilt. There may be a poem there.
Phil. | HI Phil
Written by jean.day (2366 comments posted) 24th December 2006 | I think that why you wrote this was because you thought you would feel better as a result of putting it all down in words and trying to make sense of it. Trying to justify to yourself that you don't believe what you were taught to believe, and it doesn't matter.
But you say it hasn't helped - and I wonder if that is because you were so worried about not hurting anybody else by saying the things you wrote, you didn't say all that you really felt.
I can't pretend that my changes in religion from when I was a child to what I believe in now has been as traumatic as what you feel. I'm sure my mother would not recognise my brand of religion as being the same as what she believed and what she taught me. But it is me who has to live with it - and me who will go to heaven or hell if they exist dependant on what I do - so it is up to me to make the decisions and be happy to live with them.
None of my children followed in the religion I tried to teach them. They rebelled when the oldest was about 8, and went their own ways. I cried all through the baptismal service in her new church that my daughter choose to have when she was about 15, because I felt it was my failure. I think most of the congregation thought I was crying because I was so moved by it. So it was traumatic for me at first, but luckily before too long I was able to see things from their points of view. I don't now put my values on them or let them put theirs on me.
So my guess is that if your mother were reading your stories and poems that you wrote here, she would understand, and if she might be a bit disappointed that you couldn't see things as she did - she would know that you are a very good man, perhaps better for not believing as she did, and for having the courage to work out your moral code for yourself - one that you can happily accept. |
Written by Phil (6963 comments posted) 24th December 2006 | | Jean, you're a diamond. Thanks. |
Written by Witzl (1585 comments posted) 27th December 2006 | Having grown up with a similar background and witnessed first-hand some of the hypocrisy and narrow-mindedness you describe here, I can certainly understand your confusion and anger. Whenever I meet people with such a rigidly narrow-minded religious philosophy, I am filled with missionary fervor: I want to show them how wrong they are, and I feel just as determined to turn them as they are to turn me.
I can still remember ugly arguments between believers and non- believers in my family, with the believers (certain aunts and uncles) castigating the non-believers (my parents) for not continuing to raise their children 'in the light.' Both of my parents were religious and went to church, but they made the mistake of going to the 'wrong' church. There were many lively exchanges at holiday times. We children were often threatened with the prospect of hellfire -- how would we like to suffer like that? Well, we were heading for such endless torment, and it was all because of our sinful, straying parents! And so on.
The people who can emerge unscathed from such propaganda are very strong indeed, but reading your (and johniebg's) stories, I am moved and saddened by all you had to go through. Imagine a child not being fed for two days simply for not saying grace!
I like what Jean wrote. I think that your mother would certainly look at you and know that you had not formed your opinions lightly or thoughtlessly. I like to think this about my two intransigent aunts, both of whom I loved very much -- that wherever they are, they know how hard I have tried to shape my own values and form my own code of life, and how much more meaningful such a process is than to mindlessly swallow the beliefs and opinions of others.
| Hi Phil
Written by Clifftown (642 comments posted) 31st December 2006 | | Been away for a while, so only just caught up with the final part, which for what it's worth I found very interesting. The previous reviewers - especially Jean and Witzl - have said it all for me really. Well done. |
Written by coosh (923 comments posted) 3rd January 2007 | I found this fascinating, Phil, particularly the final section. Although your particular story relates in no small way to religion, it struck me that you had touched on something broader, what people ingrain into the minds of their children at an impressionable age, and how they have to live with it and fathom it out, if they can. Guilt isn't just about religion, of course - but it is about control.
My wife comes from a fiercely Catholic country and was brought up under a military dictatorship. The fact that she tried to question both marked her out as a "marginal". Worse still, she was the daughter her parents never wanted (they even adopted another son just to make sure the boys outweighed the girls - a son who, incidentally, has never shown one ounce of gratitude for receiving a hundred times more support than either of the blood-related offspring). Although they couldn't afford it, they paid for her to go to university, not because they wanted her to have an education, but to be sure she stayed within the clutches of the family - the mentality was "you're responsible for bankrupting us, so now you have to be grateful and do everything we say". When she passed her exams, they bought her a car, in the same way and for the same reason - the guilt was supposed to tie her to the family and keep her under their control. Ultimately, it didn't work, she sold the car and bought a one-way ticket to Europe. But years and years of telling her she was some kind of mad freak for trying to step outside the norm had a strong psychological effect. Years later, with the chance to look at things from a distance (in time and geographically), she suddenly said "You know what, I'm just starting to realise how much I was brainwashed into believing there was something psychologically (and psychiatrically) wrong with me for being the only one who didn't want to toe the line, it's only now I'm just beginning to realise that it's my entire fucking family which is insane." Recently things came to head, she finally decided to cut off all contact with them - (this happened face to face but the attempted manipulation was still continuing via the long-distance phone calls) - and she's a lot better for having done it. But even now, via the way in which she is organising provisions of the will, her mother is still seeking to ensure she will have control, from beyond the grave.
Sorry, Phil, I've started my own piece (luckily she's no idea I write - she just thinks I'm a semi-successful on-line gambler). I think that the restrained way (the prose and feelings therein) in which you wrote it works well, quite simply because the "unsaid" speaks volumes. Once it becomes uncontrolled, it can start to become reactionary, and you can create another monster.
The fact that you have reached a point where you have been able to "fathom a lot of it out" is (albeit relatively speaking) something extremely positive - some people never get that far - in fact, some end up just like their parents. I found all the sections a fascinating description of a personal journey. Cheers.
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