I was one of the faithful, i had a relationship with God, i believed the bible story.
I liked having God in my life, there was always someone to talk to; Jesus, on the other hand, i could never really talk to him. In some ways it was like my relationship with my little, gay half-brother H. I feel that H. resents me like i
resent Jesus for being the perfect son.
For me to have stayed faithful, would have been very simple.
I was asked to do one thing: to have faith in God, and i had no problem with that. Then i studied the bible; i haven't read the whole bible, i've read enough, been lectured about the rest. What i did was study this book called The Holy Bible.
To have kept my belief in God all i would have needed to hear was: God is good,
He created everything; think about anything, anything at all, He created it. That's all it would have taken, i would have worshiped God forever.
But that's not what happened.
He came out with a book, and all i had to do was really look at this book to know that God was a fictional character along with his antagonist, Satan; all made up by human imagination over the years and eventually written down by scholars. There is human wisdom in this book, but it is wisdom that had been around before. God did not all the sudden give us the idea that murder was wrong. People did think before the bible; there were philosophers around with some pretty good ideas.
This book did have one thing that was fairly new: it's insistance that we worship Him and only Him; it really hammers home that point, the first two commandments is just about that: it really does not want you to shop around.
I think the Roman emperor Constantine recognized the fragility of early Christianity, hence the first council of Nicea in 325 A.D. Constantine saw
Christianity coming apart at the seams because it could not settle the dispute over whether Jesus was God or the son of God, the most basic of dogmas; if your religion doesn't know that, something is not right. He got a bunch of Bishops together in Nicea and he ordered them to just pick one and go with it! let's get our story straight and stick with it. And that's how Chritianity got it's big break and became the religion it is today. Constantine saw the value of the influence that religion has over people; an influence powerful enough that people are willing to die for their religion. This comes in handy to start wars.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Monday, October 18, 2010
Implications and Inspirations
Writing is hard work, for me anyway, so there must be a pretty good reason why i would decide to exorcise my spiritual demons in this way. Well, i was inspired by a very nice lady who asked me outright if i was a Christian.
A very long time ago i did lie about it, one time, and that one time was enough to convince me that that was not going to work for me. After that i would try to avoid the subject or give a vague answer. I have no idea how this Christian lady worked that question into what we were discussing, but there it was; surprisingly, i did not dread, and i was not uncomfortable being honest. So, this very nice lady asked me a few more questions and then declared that Satan had gotten a hold of me and that she would pray for me.
It's not the first time i've been told that, it's just the first in a long time. I wrote last time about when i was 16 and i quit going to church, my father predicted that i would fall in with Satan; of course, i disappointed him even on such a likely outcome. Some would say i didn't disappoint him, but i meant in providing him with more tangible proof that i had gone to the other side.
Then when i was in my twenties, i swear this one member of dad's congragation would come into the shop just to tell me that my father was very disappointed that i had gone over to team Satan.
It doesn't bother me because Satan does not exist for me. What bothers me is the implication that if you are not a Christian, then you are evil. The arogance of the implication that there cannot be good without God. Not to mention, in my father's religion, the impudence of calling it "The Truth"; as in: are you in the Truth or some other religion? Are you in the Truth or in with Satan?
Of course, people will say that the insane do not know they are insane, same with the possessed..... Fair enough.
A very long time ago i did lie about it, one time, and that one time was enough to convince me that that was not going to work for me. After that i would try to avoid the subject or give a vague answer. I have no idea how this Christian lady worked that question into what we were discussing, but there it was; surprisingly, i did not dread, and i was not uncomfortable being honest. So, this very nice lady asked me a few more questions and then declared that Satan had gotten a hold of me and that she would pray for me.
It's not the first time i've been told that, it's just the first in a long time. I wrote last time about when i was 16 and i quit going to church, my father predicted that i would fall in with Satan; of course, i disappointed him even on such a likely outcome. Some would say i didn't disappoint him, but i meant in providing him with more tangible proof that i had gone to the other side.
Then when i was in my twenties, i swear this one member of dad's congragation would come into the shop just to tell me that my father was very disappointed that i had gone over to team Satan.
It doesn't bother me because Satan does not exist for me. What bothers me is the implication that if you are not a Christian, then you are evil. The arogance of the implication that there cannot be good without God. Not to mention, in my father's religion, the impudence of calling it "The Truth"; as in: are you in the Truth or some other religion? Are you in the Truth or in with Satan?
Of course, people will say that the insane do not know they are insane, same with the possessed..... Fair enough.
Friday, October 15, 2010
Sins of the Father
My mother grew up a Catholic farm girl in San Juan del Rio, Durango and remained Catholic when she moved to Matamoros. I wish i had asked her what she thought about converting to dad's religion when we moved to Texas and what happened to her in that religion that made her abandon it. I don't remember much about it, i was about 15 yrs old then, i was mostly wondering if that fuzz on my lip would ever turn into something.
It was17 years later, it might have been during the same conversation we had about death, that i asked her if she knew what a cult was and i told her that it was the opinion of some people that dad's religion was on the verge of being a cult. This did not faze her, and she let me know that she was not convinced of that. I told her that any religion that tries to control who you marry and what you read is highly suspicious.
Mom stopped going to church with dad, but she never abandoned God. I kept going to the services with dad, just the two of us, nearly a year, i guess. At 16 yrs old, i think that leaving that church and abandoning dad to his theology was the first challenge, of any importance, that i would have to deal with, to become the person i set out to be. I knew, at that age, that i did not want to be the person that my father was trying to mold; it's one thing to have taught me his trade, i'm grateful for that, it's quite another to force me to adopt his beliefs without question. When it was clear to me that i was expected to end my education upon my high school graduation, (and even that was frowned upon by dad) and was strongly discouraged from reading anything that was not published by his church, i knew that i was expected not to question.
I'm not sure what could have caused me to have such an epiphany (if i may use that term) at that moment in time, but i knew then that i did not want to be closed minded. The questions were starting to form, and one led to another; what i read in the bible did not make any sense, but my conscience did not let me be critical of the book inspired by God, not until that first step was taken. It took a long time, by teenager standards i suppose, because i could not find a way out; i was not a natural rebel like my older sister; i could not confront my father because
confronting him was tantamount to facing God Almighty to question His logic. In the end, out of desperation, i turned to my mother and pleaded my case; i hope that the reason that she decided to help me was that she knew it was not Satan at work, like my father would reason, and not just another opportunity for her to make dad's life miserable. She told me one saturday: just don't come out of your room in the morning until your father leaves; and she told him that i would no longer be joining him, that i had my reasons. He yelled at her that she would be sorry for aiding and abetting Satan's latest project!
Yes, dad predicted my moral downfall, but i don't know if he ever got any satisfaction out of that prediction. Mom mentioned the incident one time, not long before she died, it made her laugh. It was a couple of years after i quit going to church that i had my first real beer, not just a stolen sip, and it was another couple of years before i started drinking with any regularity, that didn't last long. Tried pot the first time when i was 18, it was ok, but i think i'm giddy anyway. I brought books home from school and read them, i was in plays, i went to UIL play competition one year; i was a geek, for heaven's sake! My mother knew that, i don't think dad did.
It was17 years later, it might have been during the same conversation we had about death, that i asked her if she knew what a cult was and i told her that it was the opinion of some people that dad's religion was on the verge of being a cult. This did not faze her, and she let me know that she was not convinced of that. I told her that any religion that tries to control who you marry and what you read is highly suspicious.
Mom stopped going to church with dad, but she never abandoned God. I kept going to the services with dad, just the two of us, nearly a year, i guess. At 16 yrs old, i think that leaving that church and abandoning dad to his theology was the first challenge, of any importance, that i would have to deal with, to become the person i set out to be. I knew, at that age, that i did not want to be the person that my father was trying to mold; it's one thing to have taught me his trade, i'm grateful for that, it's quite another to force me to adopt his beliefs without question. When it was clear to me that i was expected to end my education upon my high school graduation, (and even that was frowned upon by dad) and was strongly discouraged from reading anything that was not published by his church, i knew that i was expected not to question.
I'm not sure what could have caused me to have such an epiphany (if i may use that term) at that moment in time, but i knew then that i did not want to be closed minded. The questions were starting to form, and one led to another; what i read in the bible did not make any sense, but my conscience did not let me be critical of the book inspired by God, not until that first step was taken. It took a long time, by teenager standards i suppose, because i could not find a way out; i was not a natural rebel like my older sister; i could not confront my father because
confronting him was tantamount to facing God Almighty to question His logic. In the end, out of desperation, i turned to my mother and pleaded my case; i hope that the reason that she decided to help me was that she knew it was not Satan at work, like my father would reason, and not just another opportunity for her to make dad's life miserable. She told me one saturday: just don't come out of your room in the morning until your father leaves; and she told him that i would no longer be joining him, that i had my reasons. He yelled at her that she would be sorry for aiding and abetting Satan's latest project!
Yes, dad predicted my moral downfall, but i don't know if he ever got any satisfaction out of that prediction. Mom mentioned the incident one time, not long before she died, it made her laugh. It was a couple of years after i quit going to church that i had my first real beer, not just a stolen sip, and it was another couple of years before i started drinking with any regularity, that didn't last long. Tried pot the first time when i was 18, it was ok, but i think i'm giddy anyway. I brought books home from school and read them, i was in plays, i went to UIL play competition one year; i was a geek, for heaven's sake! My mother knew that, i don't think dad did.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Good Fences
Last saturday we went to visit my son at UNT where we hung out a little bit on the
perimeters of the campus; there are some colorful businesses around there, and in downtown Denton. It's refreshing to see the diverse ethnicities, fashions, and hair styles that walk around there in contrast to the JCPenney maniquins around here. Nothing wrong with Penney's or Wal-Mart, for that matter, it's just refreshing to see people that do not go that route.
It is National Coming Out Day, as it has been on Columbus Day these past 22 years. Seems like as good a day as any to come out myself; yes, i've been a closeted non-believer for the past 25 years, at least. As a non-believer living on the north-west corner of the buckle, on the bible belt, i relate to the closeted homosexual. I wonder if my little gay half-brother, H., is out? ...Probably, i don't think it's something he can hide; we don't talk.
One of my regrets in life is having practically come out to my mother: it was probably just a few months before she died of cancer at age 69, and it would be the one and only time we talked of death. I have always thought of myself as having been in denial of her impending demise almost to the day it happened, but somewhere in my subconscience something must have been trying to tell me. During that conversation, in which i learned that she had made peace with her god, i confessed to being on the fence concerning the whole god issue. My honesty was rewarded with an all too familiar quiet disappointment. I wanted to tell her something important about myself, but at the same time that i'm glad i got to tell her, i know it was selfish and thoughtless. I told her that i based my beliefs on scientific findings, like that would be of some consolation; and with a deep sigh she said, well, knowing you, you'll accidently fall off on the good side.
perimeters of the campus; there are some colorful businesses around there, and in downtown Denton. It's refreshing to see the diverse ethnicities, fashions, and hair styles that walk around there in contrast to the JCPenney maniquins around here. Nothing wrong with Penney's or Wal-Mart, for that matter, it's just refreshing to see people that do not go that route.
It is National Coming Out Day, as it has been on Columbus Day these past 22 years. Seems like as good a day as any to come out myself; yes, i've been a closeted non-believer for the past 25 years, at least. As a non-believer living on the north-west corner of the buckle, on the bible belt, i relate to the closeted homosexual. I wonder if my little gay half-brother, H., is out? ...Probably, i don't think it's something he can hide; we don't talk.
One of my regrets in life is having practically come out to my mother: it was probably just a few months before she died of cancer at age 69, and it would be the one and only time we talked of death. I have always thought of myself as having been in denial of her impending demise almost to the day it happened, but somewhere in my subconscience something must have been trying to tell me. During that conversation, in which i learned that she had made peace with her god, i confessed to being on the fence concerning the whole god issue. My honesty was rewarded with an all too familiar quiet disappointment. I wanted to tell her something important about myself, but at the same time that i'm glad i got to tell her, i know it was selfish and thoughtless. I told her that i based my beliefs on scientific findings, like that would be of some consolation; and with a deep sigh she said, well, knowing you, you'll accidently fall off on the good side.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
The Odd Couple
My earliest recollection of God is when i was 5 or 6 and still living in Matamoros; one of my friends who attended sunday school put the idea in my head that Santa Claus lived with God in heaven. Since i didn't attend sunday school, i'm not sure if he was repeating what the teacher told him or was interpolating, but it made sense to me, and i could picture the two old, white-bearded men like a biblical version of Jack Klugman and Tony Randell. It was the first time i can remember being conscious of the Almighty watching my every move.
Putting the two together helped me reconcile with old St. Nick whom i had previously had misgivings about because of the whole unpracticality of his annual romp across the planet. Giving him a partner like the Almighty cleared things up for me. Until, that is, dad moved us to Texas in 1968 and Santa did not visit our home any longer and i found out that he did not visit other kids from other religions as well. When dad told me that we didn't celebrate Christmas because Jesus did not tell his followers to comemorate his birth, but his death, i was living in a different country with a different language in a town where where i was the only Mexican in the school; the issues with Jesus and Santa probably did not have the effect that it otherwise could have. In Mexico Santa showed up because we were Catholic; here we were Christian, but because of a different translation of the Bible, Santa passed us by; confusion was my middle name, but i went along for the ride because i was a kid. All i knew was that it was no longer enough to believe in God and that Jesus is his son, to be considered for a reward on Christmas.
Then dad told me that Santa was not real anyway, but i was already numb by then, so that nugget of information just sat there like odd looking stone that you kept in your little treasure box along with that tiny compass that broke off a cheap pair of binoculars that you got at the state fair for being good. And many years later you remember the experience of having truth turned into lie with just a few words and i realize that i was given a gift then: the gift of possibilies; that things are possible, in this world, that i may not have considered as easily, without that gift.
Santa Claus and God: all the sudden Santa was not real; were they such an odd couple after all?
Being able to consider the alternatives to all our Truths, no matter how improbable, is all it takes to begin the search for what is most probable; for the truth may not be known in our lifetime, if ever.
Putting the two together helped me reconcile with old St. Nick whom i had previously had misgivings about because of the whole unpracticality of his annual romp across the planet. Giving him a partner like the Almighty cleared things up for me. Until, that is, dad moved us to Texas in 1968 and Santa did not visit our home any longer and i found out that he did not visit other kids from other religions as well. When dad told me that we didn't celebrate Christmas because Jesus did not tell his followers to comemorate his birth, but his death, i was living in a different country with a different language in a town where where i was the only Mexican in the school; the issues with Jesus and Santa probably did not have the effect that it otherwise could have. In Mexico Santa showed up because we were Catholic; here we were Christian, but because of a different translation of the Bible, Santa passed us by; confusion was my middle name, but i went along for the ride because i was a kid. All i knew was that it was no longer enough to believe in God and that Jesus is his son, to be considered for a reward on Christmas.
Then dad told me that Santa was not real anyway, but i was already numb by then, so that nugget of information just sat there like odd looking stone that you kept in your little treasure box along with that tiny compass that broke off a cheap pair of binoculars that you got at the state fair for being good. And many years later you remember the experience of having truth turned into lie with just a few words and i realize that i was given a gift then: the gift of possibilies; that things are possible, in this world, that i may not have considered as easily, without that gift.
Santa Claus and God: all the sudden Santa was not real; were they such an odd couple after all?
Being able to consider the alternatives to all our Truths, no matter how improbable, is all it takes to begin the search for what is most probable; for the truth may not be known in our lifetime, if ever.
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