The Internal and the External and the Eternal

Old and New and Closure

It's funny how themes from your past keep coming back up, frequently seeming new until you do some closer examination.

One theme that I've been working hard on is closure.  My husband calls me "Keeper of the Memories", partly out of affection and partly out of concern and occasional frustration.  I hang onto memories and feelings and their associations for a long time, arguably longer than many (most?) other people.  This can be good, sweet and sentimental, or it can be bad, beating a horse long dead.

One recurrent theme is my combative relationship with organized religion and its practitioners.  In particular, "practice what you preach", and the fact that many of them don't.  If you're going to be self-righteous, at least be able to back it up somehow.

Another theme is my belief, based on experience, that people will always let you down, no matter how hard they try not to -- this is human nature and I'm certainly as prone to it as anyone else.  I can often forgive this, even though I don't forget, and sometimes my opinion of that person is damaged irreparably.  However, when they take a calculated risk and get caught out, that's another question.  If someone deliberately lets me fall to advance a selfish agenda, then we're going to have a problem.

A final theme that is relevant to this post is my deep anger whenever I am lied to, deceived, or misled.  Frequently I know when this is happening, sometimes I don't, but I hate it either way.  I try not to do this to other people, and doing it to me will almost certainly gain you my permanent enmity.

Lying to me deliberately and repeatedly, to advance your own selfish agenda, despite your protestations of being born again and your attendance at church each week, just leaves me spitting with disgust.

My last job was at a small company.  Most of my co-workers were professed Christians.  They were minimally self-righteous about it (for which I was grateful), but they were certainly very active in their churches.  Under the circumstances, I expect a certain standard of behavior.  I know they're still human, but I do expect them to try to restrain themselves from blatant abuse of the Ten Commandments.

This turned out to be overly optimistic.  One person routinely cribbed figures when necessary and openly avowed they'd be willing to lie, under oath, to help a friend out of a bad situation.  This same person was not above telling half-truths to drive a wedge between people who were on good terms.  Another one was everyone's friend and the boss's right hand, and was also the person who had badmouthed every single one of their co-workers behind their backs, not just once but multiple times, and took quite a few whacks at their friends and family as well.  At some point or other, this person had gone to the boss complaining about every single employee of the company, and suggesting they be fired.  If you had a conflict with another one, you could absolutely count on that person calling or IM'ing the boss within minutes (usually seconds) to press their case, saying whatever they thought would help them to win, regardless of whether it had any basis in fact.  These same people were some of the most manipulative people I've ever had to deal with, it took constant vigilance keep yourself objective long enough to sort out the facts for yourself.  It was all the more frustrating concealed behind this veneer of middle America core Christian values, all smiling faces on top and a whole lot of self-justification underneath.

In the eight months since we all parted ways, I have discovered, to my surprise, that I had a lot more issues with them than I had acknowledged to myself.  One thing I discovered was a deep and burning anger for the number of times I was backstabbed, and that people who should have known better believed these lies, out of apathy or ignorance.  I realize that I spent at least the last year, and quite possibly two years, of my employment there in a constant state of "fight or flight", wondering when the next attack would come and from what direction.  I learned to read the signs very well, and was fairly proficient at defending myself, but oh how tired I got of the necessity.  I tried to restrain myself from using their own tactics against them, but it was so tempting at times -- there were a few times I was really angry, and I could have done some devastating damage in return if I hadn't reined myself in.  I realize also that I had some level of contempt for a lot of them, for things both voluntary and involuntary.  The deeper lack of respect, of course, is reserved for actions which went against their professed beliefs but were knowingly engaged in, apparently without remorse, but I do feel some additional frustration with things that they should have figured out by now, regardless of how they were raised.  Although intelligent and well educated, they never questioned certain things that they really, really should have examined a little more closely.

I'm not saying they were bad people, in essence they were not.  On the surface, I had friendly feelings toward most of them, most of the time, and those were genuine enough.  However, they aren't people that I've sought out since the company folded, although I'm sure most of them remain in contact.  I'm sure they also attack me, on a pretty regular basis.  I'm also sure that was happening for the duration of my employment there, not something that's all that comfortable to accept until I remember that they never succeeded in tearing me down or chasing me out.  I felt some anger at that for quite awhile, but I've pretty much let it go now.  In fact, I've pretty much let go of the whole situation.  This post is the last wheeze as I exhale, ready to inhale something fresh and clean.  I don't wish any of them any harm; I hope they live long and happy lives.  I also have no desire to see them or hang out with them, not because I'm angry or hate them, I just don't care. 

It's ironic that the people I think back on with the least amount of anger are some of those who were the most difficult at the time:  the VP I had to testify against, the depressed office manager who shared office space and glowered at me all day long, the ones who slacked off and didn't get their work done leaving me holding the bag with the clients.  At least I pretty much knew where I stood with them, the issues I had were typical workplace issues.  Except for the VP, but you know, I have a lot of confusion about that situation; he did a couple of things which were blatantly, demonstrably dishonest, but most of the rest of it is based on the word of people that really couldn't be trusted to tell the truth, and could be trusted to manipulate things to their own benefit regardless of the damage to another.  So, while I permanently lost respect for the VP based on his actions, a lot of the additional anger I felt has pretty much evaporated.  I'm not at all convinced, in retrospect, that the things I was told about him and his wife had much if any merit to them.  I'm both glad and sad to feel that way.

It's equally ironic that most if not all of these people will continue on terms of friendship, manipulating and backstabbing each other indefinitely, and anyone who associates with them will be touched by it in some way.  How many of them will realize it?  How many of them will participate?  How many will react as I did, trying to remain aloof while still keeping a valid working relationship with them?  I don't know, but it won't be me, which is all that matters.

The Keeper of the Memories is closing the door on this one.  I have burned my bridges.  I have closure.  I have let it go.  However you want to put it.  Not only is it in my past, but it already has an unreal feeling, as of something that happened long ago, in another life or when I was another person.  Did I really work there, for that long, with those people, and all that bullshit going on?  Wow... !

Sermons

Readers of this blog will know that I've got a checkered history with organized religion, and an very ambivalent attitude toward most Christian churches.  It's a question of hypocrisy and control for the most part, which I need not go into in detail here.

The thing is, there have been times when I actually enjoyed church.  When there's a good pastor, I can really get a great deal of enjoyment and enlightenment out of a good sermon.  I can be reminded of human weakness in myself and others, be reminded of what's important in life, be reminded of how we should behave and why.  It can help you be a better person.

I forget that sometimes, confronted on every side by the false faces of so many churchgoers.  Many ministers are rigidly intolerant of anything outside of their church, raising my hackles as I read through their rhetoric of paranoia and hate.  It taints me so that I can't attend any standard church service anymore without casting a very cynical eye on my fellow pew sitters.

Today I came across an archived sermon from a minister in Frederick, Maryland.  I came across it quite by accident, but read through it because the topic caught my eye:  Backstabbing.

It was a great sermon.  All about why gossip and backstabbing is bad, the harm it can cause, but also how to avoid it in your own life.  Steps to take, things to remember, things to do, so that you do not inflict this on others.  It reminded me of things I value, like loyalty.  I found myself nodding along as I read it, and after I was done, I felt good about having read it.

In short, it was everything that a good sermon should be.  If I lived in Frederick, Maryland, I might well consider going to hear this man preach.  If only the rest of the congregation wouldn't be there...

Divisions of Faith

A co-worker of mine asked me some questions this morning about the Palestinians, Israel, and generally the whole Middle Eastern mess.  She did this because she is aware she knows very little about the conflicts, historical or current, and she sincerely wants to understand it better, and place it into a context that makes sense in her life.

It's both flattering and a bit frightening that she turns to me.  It's true that I know more about the Middle Eastern situation, past and present, than many mainstream Americans.  This is due partly to my own past, and partly to my continuing interest in that region, and in world religion in general.  I certainly know more than she does, since she never even went to Sunday School as a child -- she's only just now learning about the Tower of Babel, the Exodus, and other major cornerstones of the Christian faith which she has newly come to embrace.

At the same time, I am far from an expert religious scholar, far from a political expert, and I'm well aware that there are so many aspects to those conflicts that I neither understand, nor perhaps could understand despite my best intentions. 

I was able to set her straight on just who the Palestinians are, in terms of today's headlines.  I was able to outline the basis of their current conflicts with the state of Israel.  I was able to point her to some resources where she could learn more about Islam, of which she knows basically nothing.

I tiptoed as I did these things, however.  Her new church is not one I can strongly endorse, although it's about the only one she could accept.  It's certainly not a mainstream, traditional church, which is the appeal in her eyes.  I have no objection to that per se, but I do regard her ministers with suspicion.  They have not been to seminary, not put in the traditional types of religious study and challenge that I feel any minister, of any faith, should have to undergo.  This worries me.  I also worry that I might say something which would appear to contradict or conflict with what she is learning, thereby creating a conflict with us.

That's the tightrope that we all walk, if we have any sense of faith and morality in a bigger, societal sense.  Where do you draw the lines of how far to go?

Here are the questions that lead to the divisions:

1.  Where does tolerance end, and condoning evil begin?

2.  Where does faith end, and fanaticism begin?

3.  How much is too much, how little is too little?

I was encouraged to hear my co-worker say, after I was done with what I had to share, that it sounded to her like Islam wasn't really that different from Christianity in a lot of ways.  This was heartening because in the current political climate, Islam has been vilified to many Americans, demonized into an arch-enemy to all we hold dear.  Even allowing for her different views on Jesus, she was able to see that the faith itself, Islam, holds many of the same values that her faith holds.  She understands it a little better now, and what's even more important, she WANTED to understand.

She also mentioned that based on the history I could share, it seemed like the conflicts between the Palestinians and the Jews, and other historically opposed nations, might never really be solved -- something I sadly agree with.  And she said that wow, she understood better now but didn't understand, at the same time... and agreed with me when I said most Americans both didn't and couldn't.  And she is beginning to understand why many in that region resent the US interference in their affairs.

This isn't to say we suddenly agree on religion or politics.  I'm still a liberal pagan, she's still a conservative Christian.  But somehow, we managed to have a very delicate conversation that was tolerant of the other guy's view, and maybe, just maybe, she begins to understand what made me who I am today.

Many people of fervent faith discourage even learning the basics about other beliefs, in fear it will seduce you away from the "truth".

I feel differently.  I feel that more knowledge and more understanding can only help lead you to more informed decisions.

To borrow from my former faith, "You shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free."

Liberal vs. Conservative

Anyone who wants to understand the vitriolic hatred between liberals and conservatives in the US these days should read this article:

http://www.beliefnet.com/story/156/story_15629_1.html

Really awesome, brief and concise.  Addresses some of the major points of misunderstanding and contention.

If more people could write articles like this, and more people could try to see the other person's view like this, then we might just find a way to reunite our deeply divided and angry nation.

Of Conspiracy Theories and Hemochromatosis

No, they don't have anything in common. They're not linked except that they're both on my mind today. Along with karate, "healthy" fats, commitment-phobia, and the final episode of Gilmore Girls (not necessarily in that order).

As expected, my post on Nick Berg got a fair number of hits from the search engines. Out of curiosity, I did a search on my own and discovered that conspiracy theories are the flavor du jour. I knew I'd been busy the past few days but this one blew right by me. I'll have to take people's word for the details in the video that seem incongruous -- I refuse to watch it. However, it seems that there are things that don't add up about this supposed videotaped execution of an American who might, or might not, have had ulterior motives in being in Iraq in the first place, who might or might not have been held by the Americans for several weeks before the execution, who might or might not have had contact with Al-Qaida in the United States at some point, which might or might not have been accidental and unlucky coincidence.

For the record, it seems rather unlikely to me that a Jewish American would knowingly cooperate with an extremist Muslim group but hey, weirder things have probably happened. I don't know why he would be wearing an orange prison-type jumpsuit, but I'll bet they aren't that hard to find in Iraq. I don't know if one of his captors was wearing black Reeboks, and one wearing a gold ring (Moslem men can wear silver, but not gold or silk -- these are reserved for women). I have no clue whether or not there was much blood from the severed head, and certainly have no intention of looking at that video closely enough to give an opinion.

There is a man dead. Why do we insist on straying from the essential, and wandering into the paths of arcane theorizing? I think it's because it keeps us from having to really think about that bottom truth of a headless American.

The conspiracy reminds me a bit of the OJ Simpson trial. His wife was dead, there were, and I quote, "rivers" of blood running down the sidewalk, and they found, I think, 11 drops of it on him. Little ones. Is it really possible he could have killed 2 people, produced rivers of blood, not been seen, and made it home and gotten so cleaned up as to leave only 11 little drops of blood for the police to find, in a matter of something like 20 minutes? It's possible, but I sure as hell have no idea how it was managed, if that's the case. And I doubt we'll ever know the whole truth, about OJ or about Nick Berg.

Speaking of blood, I had bloodwork done a month ago. The complete profile: Red blood cells, white blood cells, liver enzymes, kidney enzymes, etc., etc. I did this mostly because it had been a damn long time since I've had any done, plus I wanted to guilt my doctor-phobic boyfriend into doing it too. His of course was normal. I expected nothing to stand out on mine, and was therefore surprised to see 2 values that were high. I was even more surprised to find they were levels of iron in the blood -- I knew about anemia, which is iron deficiency, but it never occurred to me you could have too much iron in the blood, unless you were eating metal shavings or something. The little pamphlet that came with my results said this could be due to hemochromatosis, which meant nothing to me so I looked it up online.

I learned a whole lot, certainly enough to scare my ass into going to the doctor to get follow-up tests done! Although considered a rare condition, in actual fact it may be the most common genetic illness in the United States, and is probably often undiagnosed or misdiagnosed. Common symptoms include fatigue and joint pain, which match about 172,000 other ailments, at a conservative estimate. Abdominal pain can go with it. If left untreated for long periods, the excess iron stores in the liver, pancreas, heart and brain. None of the organs has any need for all that extra iron, and in fact, they don't like it much. So they fail. Liver disease, heart disease, pancreatitis -- I'm telling you, it's a fun list. Nifty prospect. That's the bad news.

The good news is, treatment is simple, inexpensive, and hugely effective. Hurray for something which can actually be treated!

The bad news is, the primary treatment is to get rid of the extra iron by getting rid of some of your blood. As often as once or twice a week. They practically have to strap me down to get a routine blood sample from me, let alone stick a needle in my arm and leave it there for a long period. My reaction consisted of about one straight hour of expletives shouted at the top of my lungs. If I have hemochromatosis, I'll do what I need to do -- but they'd better have the tranquilizers ready.

It didn't help that my fever was pushing 103 when I read up on all this. I've got some weird bug that's going around. Main symptoms are total muscle exhaustion, aches and pains, and a skull-splitting headache. I left work at the half day today to come home and die quietly in bed. I am ashamed to admit I'm glad I still live alone, since all I wanted to do was be left alone. My boyfriend called to check up on me and see if I was going to karate tonight, and I didn't even want to talk to him. In fact, for a few selfish moments I didn't want to have anything to do with him, not to worry about him, not to worry about worrying him. This is a harsh thing to do to a perfectly good boyfriend, but I'm damn antisocial when I'm sick. And I'm commitment phobic at all times. We've gotten closer and closer, which is awesome, but I fight down moments of panic. When I'm dying of some mysterious virus, and on top of that apparently dying of all this iron in my blood, I simply don't have the energy to be scared of commitment. Call me back tomorrow.

I sure as hell don't have the energy to go to karate. I currently have the false energy caused by my fever ramping up impressively yet again, making me think I could move mountains. I made the mistake of walking across the room, and I can assure you that actual mountains are out of the question. So is karate. But I feel grumpily guilty to miss training. And fat. I feel fat. And out of shape. Because missing one single training makes you very fat and out of shape.

Well, maybe not. But remember I'm dying of a mysterious virus, and of course all that iron in my blood is weighing me down.

I'd distract myself by watching the season finale of Gilmore Girls, and seeing if Luke really does kiss Lorelai, and figuring out if Rory will freak out over kissing Dean and run away with Jess... but it's not on tonight, dammit. I'm home, and it's the beginning of the week, so it should be Tuesday. However, it's not. It's Monday, and I should be at karate.

But I'm not because I am dying of a mysterious virus, and dammit I'm carrying half the world's iron supply around in my veins.

I bet there's a conspiracy behind that one...

The End of One Evil

Saddam Hussein is captured, his identity confirmed by DNA, his mood resigned but unrepentant. Now, perhaps, some measure of healing can begin in a war-torn country.

A few people have thought, since I opposed the war in Iraq, that I in some way condoned the rule of a bloodthirsty dictator whose crimes were of mythic proportions.

I oppose war as a matter of course, except in extreme necessity, because I am opposed to the wanton destruction of life and property. Such violence leaves scars that take lifetimes to heal. But if we are attacked, we have every right to defend ourselves. Therefore, after 9/11, I had no issue with going after the man who openly claimed responsibility (and gloated), along with the people who were sheltering him.

Saddam Hussein did NOT have a role in 9/11 (although I'm sure the sadistic ass loved it). Saddam Hussein, although nominally Muslim, is about as Muslim as I am Christian at this point. He broke pretty much every rule of Islam, frequently, with malice aforethought, with great pleasure, and still with absolutely no repentance. He lied, he cheated, he stole, he committed adultery. He was guilty of beatings and torture and murder, and encouraged it in others. Al-Qaeda on the other hand belongs to the highly conservative wing of Islam, hence the fact that they sought refuge in Afghanistan, ruled at that time by the extremely conservative Taliban. They could no more join forces with Saddam Hussein than they could sprout wings and fly. It would be like the 700 Club joining with Son of Sam in order to bring down Iraq.

So using 9/11 as an excuse to invade Iraq, which had committed no violent actions against the United States, was preposterous, and an insult to the American public. Even Bush had to finally come out and admit it wasn't true and he should never have said that it was -- yet, something like 80% of the US still believes it. Using the clearly-fictional "weapons of mass destruction" -- of which we've found absolutely no trace -- was equally ridiculous. The fact that their "smoking gun" evidence consisted of a convoy of trucks leaving a suspect site was pretty thin. Where did the trucks go? What was in them? You mean, you can get aerial surveillance of a convoy going somewhere, but you didn't follow it and check it out? The hell they didn't, and if there had been anything worth showing, they would have.

On a personal level, I had thought for a long time that it would be a good thing if the Taliban were somehow taken down, and Saddam Hussein (and a few others) but I don't believe we have the right to choose another country's government for them. Would we want them taking down our government and replacing it with a conservative Muslim regime? Because they would surely believe they were freeing us from evil by so doing, just as we feel that way about Saddam Hussein, the Taliban, and any number of faceless regimes in countries too small to make the headlines.

So I opposed the war in Iraq, which I knew was not going to be the pushover that the American people had been spoon-fed. I knew that it's really hard to invade a country and penetrate to its interior, hundreds of miles inland, without taking losses, both to our forces and to a number of innocent civilians. I knew that, impossible though it might seem to many Americans, Hussein had support in his country, although plenty of people certainly wanted him gone. I also knew that we were going against international law by invading a country which had done nothing to us, sure to bring down the wrath of the international community (as it did), and we openly went against a UN resolution -- pretty absurd when you remember that we were claiming violations of UN resolutions as the justification for this invasion.

The war in Iraq left us with a black reputation in countries which used to be our friends, appalled at the gross ignorance and hubris of our country and its leader. It's left us with well over 400 dead Americans and a hushed-up (but in the thousands) number of Iraqi casualties. It has left us mired in the dark and arcane political workings of a country whose culture we neither understand nor appreciate, leading to endless mistakes that have fueled resentment in the people we like to think consider us saviors. I opposed it at the beginning, I oppose it now.

I support the US forces, and those of all other nations, who followed the orders of their governments, and put their lives on the line for someone else's flawed political ideology. I salute their courage in time of danger and their strength under brutal conditions. I support the Iraqi people, who have suffered much for many years, and aren't currently doing much better under our oversight.

And I exult in the capture of Saddam Hussein, hopefully to stand trial in an international court of law, to be condemned by the world for his unforgivable crimes against his own people.

Your God Is Too Small

When I was younger, I spent 3 years attending an evangelical church. I transferred to this church for the logical (to a 10-year-old) reason that my best friend had transferred to it (her father was becoming increasingly extreme in his religious views). By the time I left, I wasn't sleeping well at night, I had nightmares, I was convinced my whole family and almost all my friends were going to Hell, and I wasn't too confident of my chances either. After leaving the church, I basically went the other way -- party girl, irreverent, and borderline atheist (I couldn't quite go so far as to say there was no higher force in the universe, but I wanted nothing to do with that God as I understood him at that point).

When I was little, I attended a Baptist church, but it wasn't really Baptist. In our small town, we had the Lutheran church, the Episcopal church, the Catholic church (I'm sure a few people went, but I never knew any) and the Baptist church. The Baptist pastor was wise enough to keep his sermons pretty mainstream, they had a great kids program, and most of the town went there. So for me, God was Vacation Bible School, Sunday School with my friends, Junior Choir, and was really a whole lot of fun. Of course you were supposed to be nice to people and we learned all the great Bible stories, but it was friendly. Which is one reason why switching to another church, when my best friend did, seemed fine to me. Wasn't church about friends?

The evangelical Assembly of God had a little chapel and a little congregation. The minister and his wife were young and very devout. It was so plain, so simple -- it reminded me of what I thought church must have been like for Laura Ingalls Wilder, and I thought that was great. I was old enough at that time to start thinking more seriously, so I appreciated the homework lessons we had, and the chance to take God more seriously. This God did seem a bit stricter, but he was just a sterner parent. At first.

That slowly began to change, because of the church elders. God for them was no laughing matter, let me tell you. People did not laugh in church, people did not even smile, unless they were overtaken by rapture. Again, at first I associated this mentally with Old West times (which I was enamored of) and did my best to be a good little prairie girl. However, I didn't have the leavening influence of other believers that I was close to, who could see things a bit more clearly and soften the impact. My mom was in the process of converting to Judaism, and my dad and brother were avowed atheists at the time, who drank alcohol, smoked cigarettes, and cussed -- and were obviously going to Hell for it all. Sue's father was very very strict, as were the other elders and most of the congregation, with the exception of one family who were vibrant and lots of fun. They actually seemed happy to be alive, happy to be Christians, like I remembered. More like Anne of Green Gables, another favorite.

However, they left the church after my second year there, and went to the Baptist church. Others also left, until the congregation consisted of me, Sue, her father, her older sister, and one other family (a mother and 2 daughters). I realize now, as an adult, that the decision to leave this church and go to the more liberal and "frivolous" one must have been agonizing for these people, torn between their more-devout beliefs, and their painful disapproval of the minister and the elders (now embodied solely by Sue's father). At the time, I vaguely felt that they were being traitorous by switching, as I had come to regard your choice of church as far more than the place where your friends went!

During that 3 years I learned that you cannot say curse words, you cannot even say the "fake" ones like dang or darn -- because it's just a way to avoid saying the "bad" word, which you were thinking anyhow, so the sin was still there. You could never say or think anything bad about anyone else. God was watching all the time and taking notes. Anyone who wasn't born-again was going straight to Hell, and it would be better for you not to associate with them or they'd lead you into temptation. You could never say anything bad about God, never question Him, never get angry with Him. It certainly was not okay to joke about anything religious. At the same time, I had entered Junior High, and was an unpopular geek, wearing glasses and a retainer and visibly lacking in the physical development of most of my classmates, on top of which I got straight A's. And, I realize now, I was probably self-righteous as all hell. I couldn't "really" be friends with these people, because they were mean to other people, they said bad words, they kissed boys, and were going to Hell. I was supposed to be witnessing to them but I didn't have the courage, so I felt guilty that it was my fault they were going to Hell, because I wouldn't say the words that would help them. Sixth and seventh grade were torture.

I began to feel stirrings of rebellion against the strict atmosphere of my church, and began to question a few things -- in my deepest secret thoughts. It terrified me, because I was pretty sure that this was a sign of that corruption they warned me about. But really, why couldn't you joke about religious matters? I'd seen a little cartoon with a figure from the side of an Egyptian tomb giving a weather report: "Frogs today, locusts tomorrow". I thought it was funny, but was told it wasn't proper to make jokes about something so serious. So then I knew I should pray for forgiveness, but I still thought it was funny, so I would go to Hell for not being repentant. Then there was the part about getting mad at God, or questioning Him. One night I dreamed that my parents died. I woke up terrified at what I would do if they did, how would I feel, how would I handle it? I knew that I would be SO pissed off at God (not that I used that phrase, you could go to Hell for that), and he'd know it whether I yelled at Him or not, so obviously I was going to Hell again, not just for daring to question God but also because I was so attached to sinful material things (my parents). I began to have nightmares about death, which I was very confused about because if you're a good Christian, you should not fear death, but now that I was trying so hard to be perfect, I was terrified that I was nowhere near good enough, and I'd go to Hell then get cast into the lake of fire with the other sinners. I tore myself away finally, but it took years to really sort through it all.

There's an old book. I've never read it, but I love the title: "Your God Is Too Small". Looking back, I feel sorry for those people, so ignorant and frightened, imposing that on a good kid and convincing her that she was heading straight for Hell. Their God was so small. You can't get mad at God, huh? Why not? If he's all-seeing and all-knowing, he knows darn well... oh, wait... he knows DAMN well when you're mad, and why. So let it out! What, you think God can't handle it? You think you'll hurt His feelings? You think he can't understand? Boy are you selling Him short. You can't laugh in church? You can't make jokes? You really think God wants you to be that serious, all the time? Then why give you a sense of humor? You can't really love your family if they don't believe the way you do, and anyway you should love and honor them but not THAT much because they're material, not spiritual? Only associate with those who aren't "sinners"? Never smoke, never drink, never work in a place where those things are tolerated? I don't know, as an adult, that sounds pretty unrealistic to me. As an adult, I know people who are born-again, they're happy, they're devout, but they're also tolerant. I know it wasn't the church itself, but the minister and the elders, and now I know why the other families left.

My friend's marriage broke up because of a similar church, when her husband became immersed in it. Her 5-year-old daughter came home from a visit afraid to go to sleep, because Satan would come get her while she was asleep (Daddy prayed every night for God to protect them from Satan while they slept, and told the girl how sinful Mommy was). This friend had consulted me at many points while her marriage went downhill, asking for my opinions and advice, because of my experience. I remember telling her that the biggest thing I get angry about, in retrospect, was how frightened they made me -- just like that. To be fair, I did also tell her she should go to a service or two and make up her own mind, all churches are different, after all. She went once and vowed never to return.

My beliefs go down very different roads these days, but I fully believe in great and wondrous powers in the Universe, far beyond my comprehension. I love how huge they are, I love that this is a dimension that I can only glimpse and aspire to touch. And I pity anyone who tries to reduce them down to human size.

Your gods are so small.