Tuesday, September 27, 2011

My Heritage

There are times that I feel like dumping the whole Christianity thing completely and starting over. Sometimes we need fresh starts in life. I appreciate the atheists I’ve been discovering on the blogosphere, especially the ones who used to be Christians. I like their honesty and integrity, and I identify with the hard work they’ve done to completely remake their belief systems to reflect reality as they have come to understand it. I’m not ready to declare myself an atheist, though. I’m also very attracted to the little I know about Buddhism, but I’m not going to go converting to that any time soon either. I don’t think conversion is my answer, at least not conversion to an entirely different religion (or lack thereof). I am working on dealing with my emotional and spiritual injuries and misconceptions and being honest with where I am, but I am also not ruling out the possibility that I may call myself “Christian” again someday, although that will look very different than it did five years ago of course. Really, the main reason I’m not ready to throw it out completely is that it is my heritage. There are reasons Christianity has been passed down to me by my family. There are reasons it has grown and survived for thousands of years. Those reasons are also the reasons other religions have persevered and grown; they're the reasons we have religions in the first place.

Religion arose as a way to explain what ancient people found unexplainable, but it was more than that too. If it wasn't, it would be quickly vanishing with the advance of science and our ability to explain what was previously unexplainable. Some people do predict this, but I think they're wrong. There was always more to religion than just explanation. It had social and psychological purposes. It was about unity and solidarity; it was about belonging and identity. Those are still true. Religion still contributes to our sense of belonging and identity; however, it also sometimes motivates more divisiveness and death than unity and life. That is because religion is a distinctly human thing. It is dynamic and imperfect, but that does not make it worthless. It is not a static statement of truth or an object apart from human animation. Without people, there would be no religion. Without people, there would be no Christianity. There have been people who valued this religion enough to dedicate and even sacrifice their lives for it. I understand that people’s willingness to sacrifice for a cause does not automatically establish the ultimate worth of the cause—probably as many people have sacrificed their lives for unjust causes as for noble ones—but I cannot in good conscience simply discount those people who valued Christianity as of ultimate importance. I feel a need to respond in some way, in a way that honors what others have valued while still retaining my personal integrity.

I have received Christianity as part of my heritage. It was passed on to me as a thing of importance, and I will not reject the entirety of Christianity because of the harmfulness of aspects of a certain culture within Christianity. I've been reading Bishop John Shelby Spong's book Rescuing the Bible from Fundamentalism, and it has been helpful in my attempt to sort out what exactly I'm trying to hold on to while  I am, at the same time, moving away from the religion I knew as a child. In what I think is one of the most beautiful passages of his book (so far, I'm not quite done with it yet) Spong says, "We see those things that affirm our being in the face of the ultimate threat of nonbeing, and we call those holy. We even call those things God. We plumb the depths of our own humanity until we touch our limits, and then we seek ways to transcend those limits. Enhanced consciousness does it, deepened humanity does it, an infinite and eternal love does it."

I am beginning to believe that religion, at its best, is less about what tradition one ascribes to and more about one's ability to understand this concept of transcendence. Once we understand it, we can share it; we can experience it together. The importance of religion lies not in whether it gives all the answers to life, but in how it provides a platform for us to establish human relations founded on this transcendence. If and when I return to Christianity, I will not be looking for a religion to give meaning to my life. I already experience meaning. I'll be looking for a Christianity that helps me to express and share and build upon that meaning which I've already experienced outside of any religious framework. My heritage, the Christianity of which I've been a part by default, is rich and varied. It is not contained in fundamentalism and biblical literalism, and I do not have to throw out Christianity in order to disassociate from fundamentalism. If I decide that returning to Christianity is the right choice for me, I am confident that I will be able to find a place in it. I know that I can live with integrity in my worldview while embracing human relationship within the context of Christianity, as well as outside it. I am at peace with my heritage.

Wednesday, September 14, 2011

On Brainwashing and Indoctrination

I went to a Christian university (though one with a reputation among other Christian schools for being "liberal," or so I was told). My dad has recently informed me that I was brainwashed by "that liberal philosophy crap." Hmm, that's funny. I thought presenting someone with information from different perspectives and expecting them to come to their own conclusions was the opposite of brainwashing...or was that idea brainwashed into me too? I really don't feel brainwashed. That must be part of the deception.

According to Wikipedia (as all of my professors cringe), brainwashing is supposed to subvert my "sense of control over [my] own thinking, behavior, emotions or decision making." Somewhat more mildly, Merriam-Webster says that brainwashing can be defined as "persuasion by propaganda or salesmanship." Now, I don't recall anyone at college ever saying to me, "This is what is unquestionably right. This is the best way to think. Anything else is wrong. Think this way." But that's a bit overt, right? Maybe it was more subtle, like: "This is what I think, and as I am in a position of authority over you, you should think the same thing." Again, a resounding no. As I recall, most (if not all) of my professors went out of their way to avoid revealing their own personal opinions in class, for exactly this reason. They understood the power they had as educators, and were more concerned that students left their classes with a well-rounded knowledge of the subject and the ability to think critically about it than with a certain set of political or religious opinions.

On the other hand, I do remember a time when I was told, "This is what is unquestionably right. Anything else is wrong. Think this way;" it was during the first 18 years of my life. Growing up, I was only ever presented with information and opinions from one perspective. I was homeschooled through my entire elementary and high school career. I was only allowed to listen to Christian music and read Christian magazines; preachers droned Christian fundamentalism over the radio in our house all the time. Most of my media choices (except for movies, but those were still parentally-regulated) were made from the Christian bookstore. I only ever heard news and political opinions from the conservative end of the spectrum. If a liberal idea was introduced, it was only in order to show me how faulty it was; it was always a caricature and never given fair representation or presented as a valid option. The word "liberal" was an insult in my house. (Still is, actually, but now I'm the one it's aimed at.) Almost all of my friendships and activities were through our church. All of this, I think, would be a good example of indoctrination.

Now, to be fair, to indoctrinate can mean simply to teach doctrine, but it seems more often to carry with it the idea of teaching someone to accept a certain belief or set of beliefs uncritically. This is key. As a child and a teenager, all criticisms I heard were directed at the opposing view; if any criticism of my family's dominant ideology was discussed, it was introduced as something "they say," and brought up only to show why "they" were wrong and we were right. Even though I was planning to attend a Christian college, I read books on how to defend my faith against "the world." Neither my parents nor my schooling ever encouraged me to take more than a superficial glance at anything that contradicted our worldview.

But again, in an effort to be fair, I have to say that I understand my parents' actions. According to their understanding of reality, they hold the ultimate and unquestionable truth. Why would they need to present me with other options? That may have confused me. Better to tell me what the truth was from the beginning so I never had reason to doubt. Now this may sound oppressive, but I think my parents are only partly to blame. The arrogance of believing that one has an exclusive claim to truth is fairly common in evangelical/fundamentalist circles (and not just in Christianity, in many other religions too, I’m aware; I’m simply not talking about them right now). It's a cultural phenomenon.

That said, I have still decided that is not the kind of person I want to be; that is not the kind of parent I plan to be. I want to help my daughter discover that there are many ways of understanding the world, and that granting each the possibility of validity (though, of course, with a respectfully critical eye) is essential to being a connected part of humanity. We must be able to see past socialized (and/or freely-chosen) ideological differences in order to have significant interactions with other humans. People will always disagree with one another, and I’m pretty sure that’s essential to our nature and our survival. I respect my parents’ right to choose their worldview to the best of their knowledge and their ability, just as I assert my own right to such a choice, and just as I will defend my daughter’s right to it as well.

So no, I don't believe I've been brainwashed. I have been taught to think critically about anything presented to me, and my world is more difficult, but also richer and more beautiful, because of it. Believing in one ultimate truth provides simplicity and stability; however, by eschewing the tension that accompanies the nuances and complexities of life in favor of having all the answers, I think such an ideology completely bypasses a huge part of what it means to live and to interact with people. I don’t have all the answers. I have very few of the answers, actually. Obviously, it’s often easier to point out what the answer is not than what it is, but that exercise has its merits as well.

I really want to insert a cliché about life and journeys vs. destinations, but my better judgment is telling me to refrain. I think you get the picture.

Monday, September 12, 2011

Jesus Isn't Enough

I've toyed with the idea of starting a blog for a while now, but I was never sure if I had enough material to make it worthwhile. Today, I stumbled upon a book that transported me back to the shame and guilt of my teenage years, that reminded me exactly why I have slowly and gradually walked away from the faith in which I was raised to a point where I can no longer honestly identify myself as a Christian. I no longer identify myself as anything, really, just as someone in transition. That brings me much peace.

The book that I found was an attempt to treat the behavior of self-injury, which is a symptom of much deeper psychological distress either from abuse or mental illness or both, with Jesus. This author's solution for someone who was dealing with this type of pain was...Jesus. Period.

Jesus isn't enough.

I know, because I was there. I did all the right things. I read the Bible, I prayed, I sincerely and truly believed in Jesus and the God of modern American evangelical Christianity. I worked on my "relationship" with God, and if I ever felt dissatisfied with my life or lonely or depressed, I worked harder. I read all the Christian books and magazines, I went to the youth conferences, I believed it all; yet I was still broken, and everything I read told me this was my fault because I just wasn't understanding what Christianity is really about. "It's not a religion, it's a relationship"...a relationship I couldn't ever quite attain. Therefore, I must have been doing something wrong. If I was still depressed, I must have been doing something wrong.

But I wasn't doing anything wrong. Jesus just wasn't enough. Jesus wasn't enough to heal my mental illness...it has taken therapy and antidepressant medication and a basic understanding of human psychology to get that under control. It wasn't because I wasn't trying hard enough or wasn't believing the right things. It's because I needed more than some vague idea of "Jesus' unconditional love" to understand that my perception of reality was crippled and that putting a Jesus band-aid over a bullet hole won't solve anything if the bullet is still in there.

I intend to expand on why I think the ideas in that book on self-injury are so dangerous in a later blog post, but for now I needed to get this blog up and running. I needed to tell the world that, no, I no longer try to make myself believe that Jesus is enough, I no longer feel like a failure for not being able to cure my depression with religion, and I am better off because of that. I am finally healing, which is more than Jesus ever did for me.

The Lighthearted Cynic

Thank God for the lighthearted cynics,
Who lift their voices to scoff in praise,
Who laugh at the absurd atrocities of life
And dance in the gloom of obscurity.
Thank God for the lighthearted cynics,
Who rejoice in mournful truth,
Who smile at dismal certainties
And sing in harmony with indifferent silence.
Thank God for the lighthearted cynics,
For whom love is a bright impossibility.