Recently in Religion Category

I'd like to draw my discussion of the book "Out of a Far Country" by drawing attention to a single statement that Christopher makes in the final (pre-epilogue) chapter.  I feel this statement deserves a great deal of attention, not only because it says something about the conservative evangelical/fundamentalist Christian approach to homosexuality, but their approach to life, the divine, and spirituality in general.  As Chistopher speaks of the overwhelming sense of welcome he felt as he returned home with his parents, he offers the following phrase:

I was unworthy of my parents love...

Christopher quickly slides past that statement and goes on about the great depths of love that his parents had for him despite his alleged unworthiness.  But I want to pause and really think about that statement.

Christopher felt he was unworthy of his parents love.

Because a child doesn't deserve the love of parents simply because zie exists.  It's something that either the child must earn -- presumably through proper behavior -- or through the magnanimous actions of parents who decides to love zem anyway.  But either way you slice it, a child is not simply worthy of a parent's love simply because, hey, children deserve to have parents who love them.

I don't buy that line of reasoning.  Quite frankly, if a parent ever told a child, "You know what, you don't really deserve my love because [the reason doesn't matter], but I'm going to love you anyway because that's just the way I am," I would not consider that parent loving.  I would consider that parent cruel.  I would suspect that such a parent was being manipulative or otherwise abusive.  If I were in a position to do so, I would watch that parent very closely and see how else zie treats zir child.  I might even have social services on speed dial.

Here's the thing, many Christians like Christopher don't just think that this unworthy child with a parent who deigns to love said child anyway as a dynamic between earthly children and their earthly parents.  They see this as the appropriate dynamic between themselves and their heavenly parent.  They see a God who loves not because people deserve love, but sees a bunch of unworthy people and decides to love them anyway because He feels like it.

My view of such a heavenly parent is no higher than my view of a similar earthly parent.  I believe that the Divine loves me because the Divine can do nothing else when the Divine looks upon me.  I believe that Divine love is based in my inherent worthiness to be loved.  I don't have to earn it.  I don't have to wait for the Divine to decide to love me anyway.  I deserve to be loved.

That doesn't mean that I'm perfect.  That doesn't mean that I don't need to improve.  The Divine calls on me to do these things because the Divine loves me, not in order to make me (more) lovable.

I feel a great deal of sadness for someone who considers themselves unworthy of love.  In my book, that suggests to me that zie is in a dark place.  And if zie is in that dark place because zir  religion tells zem that's the zie they should be in, well, I'll make no apologies for finding that monstrous.

For those of you who missed it, Cardinal George of the Chicago diocese of the Catholic church recently made statements on FOX News comparing the QUILTBAG community to the KKK because pride parade organizers changed the parade's route this year, meaning that the parade would pass by Our Lady of Mount Carmel Church.  Because you know, marching past a church one day out of the whole year and potentially making things a bit more difficult for church-goers wishing to attend services that day[1] is exactly the same as terrorizing non-caucasian people with cross burnings and other such activities.  (For further thoughts on the Cardinal's statements, be sure to check out Fannie's post.)

Well, apparently that hasn't gone well for Cardinal, (shocker, I know) because he issued the following statement on the archdiocese website:

Statement from Francis Cardinal George, OMI
Archbishop of Chicago
January 6, 2012

During a recent TV interview, speaking about this year's Gay Pride Parade, I used an analogy that is inflammatory.

I am personally distressed that what I said has been taken to mean that I believe all gays and lesbians are like members of the Klan.  I do not believe that; it is obviously not true.  Many people have friends and family members who are gay or lesbian, as have I.  We love them; they are part of our lives, part of who we are.  I am deeply sorry for the hurt that my remarks have brought to the hearts of gays and lesbians and their families.

I can only say that my remarks were motivated by fear for the Church's liberty.  This is a larger topic that cannot be explored in this expression of personal sorrow and sympathy for those who were wounded by what I said.

Francis Cardinal George, OMI

This is what some of us like to call a "fauxpology."  Note that the Cardinal isn't actually sorry for what he said, he's merely sorry for the way some people interpreted what he said.  Apparently, to the Cardinal, there is some mystic context in which it's okay to compare QUILTBAG people -- any QUILTBAG person[2] -- to the KKK.  A real apology would have started not with "I'm distressed that people took my statements that way," but with "That was a rather cruel and defamatory thing I said.  I'm sorry."

It would've ended there, too.  There would be no further need for an explanation or an attempt to rationalize his statements.  To be honest, the person you owe an apology to does not care why you said or did something hurtful to them. They don't care whether you were motivated by fear, greed, or voices in your head.  They just want you to stop hurting them and make whatever restorative steps may be appropriate.

The fact that the Cardinal goes on to talk about his "motivating fears" means not only that he's trying to make excuses why what he said wasn't so bad, but he's trying to make the whole thing about him.  Instead of focusing on the people he's hurt, he's making a shameless play for sympathy.

It's a bad play at that.  He's afraid of the loss of religious liberty?  Again, consider that the only "religious liberty" in jeopardy by the parade were that some church-goers might have been inconvenienced for a single service.  And while I appreciate that the parade organizers were willing to do something to mitigate that problem, such a minor inconvenience would have hardly made a martyr of anyone.  The Cardinal is simply playing into the persecution complex that his church has been well known for lately.

Recall that the Catholic church has lately been playing the martyr card because various states -- including Illinois -- has been telling them that Catholic Charities cannot take taxpayer money for adoption and foster care services while discriminating against QUILTBAG people.  They've also been complaining that Catholic health services cannot receive aid for health programs that refuse to either provide women with reproductive services or at least refer them to someone else.  It seems to me that Catholic leaders like Cardinal George only care about waning liberties when it's their own religious liberties.  When it comes to the rights of women and QUILTBAG people that they're religion doesn't care fore, they're okay with diminishing rights.

Of course, the greatest insult is how Cardinal George plays the "I have friends and loved ones who are gay" card, as if that somehow absolves him of his horribly anti-gay and homophobic statements.  I recently talked about the "gay friend" defense and will not repeat myself here.

Given the importance that the concept that repentance and reconciliation plays in Catholic theology, it seems to me that Cardinal George would do well to do a better job acting out both in this situation.

Notes:
[1]  To the parade organizers' credit, they delayed the start of the parade when the church expressed concerns about the parade interfering with church-goers ability to attend services.  In my book, they're willingness to work with the church made the Cardinal's comments all that more egregious.
[2]  Okay, I wouldn't be surprised to learn there's a QUILTBAG person out there who is actually a member of the KKK.  But then, they're sexual orientation and/or gender identity have nothing to do with the fact that they're a racist.  And it wouldn't be a comparison.

Note from Jarred:  When I began reading chapter eight of Raised Right:  How I Untangled my Faith from Politics, I was pleasantly surprised to see how much space Ms. Harris devoted to sharing her own experiences with sexism in the Church and how it affected the way she saw others who had a differing view on various subjects.  I felt it would be good to spend a bit of extra time looking at this topic.  I also felt that there was someone (several someones, actually) who was better suited to speak to the topic.  So I asked an old blogging buddy, Pam Hogeweide, if she'd be willing to write something on the topic.  After all, Pam has not only done a good deal of research on sexism in the church and women in theology, but as a woman, she has first-hand experience.  I was delighted when Pam accepted the invitation.

On an editorial note, beyond making a few visual formatting changes (such as fixing up the quotes for my blog) and bolding the word "complementarianism" where Pam gives a brief definition of the word, I have strived to duplicate Pam's words exactly as she sent them to me.

Jarred and I are blog buddies and Twitter pals. Though we've never met, we have crossed paths many times in the digital world for several years. I am honored that he has invited me to share some thoughts for his series on the book, Raised Right: How I Untangled My Faith from Politics, by Alisa Harris.

In chapter eight of the book, Alisa gives us glimpses of the sexism she experienced from her church  that has left her a bit scraped up. Female prejudice is an unfortunate reality in our culture, though Alisa sheds light on how the Christianized version of sexism tried to box her in. Like after her graduation from college. Alisa had travelled home only to find that the spiritual leaders from her childhood were there to stage an intervention:

". . . I sat between my parents and listened while our pastor and a church elder explained how my own sin required them to stage an intervention. The pastor and elder, part of a loose affiliation of fundamentalist churches, had grave reservations about women attending college when God ordained marriage and babies instead. College had changed me, they said. I talked more about careers and academics than about being a wife and a mother. . . I was no longer the kind of person they wanted their daughters to emulate."

These are harsh words hurled by men of the cloth who are attempting to keep Alisa on the straight and narrow of being a good Christian woman.  It is all too common for women from conservative Christian churches (as well as not-so-conservative) to experience this tearing at personhood for the heresy of being Her.

I am well acquainted with the complementarian position Alisa's childhood pastors asserted. I used to live under it myself and also defend it. Complementarianism is a fancy theological term that shrouds the idea that women are equal, BUT separate. It's the idea that God in his divine order of creation has uniquely created men to lead and women to assist. It's why men are the the pastor and women the secretary.

This view is based on a handful of scripture verses that at first glance seem to support the complementarian position. For instance, 1 Corinthians 14:34-35 says, "The women are to keep silent in the churches, for they are not permitted to speak, but are to subject themselves, just as the Law also says. If they desire to learn anything, let them ask their own husbands at home, for it is improper for a woman to speak in church."

Sounds pretty dire for women, doesn't it? But the same author who is given credit for penning these words--the apostle Paul--also wrote in Galatians 3:28: "There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus."  So which is it Paul? Are women free to be anything or is there a hierarchal constraint designed by God?

It was these kinds of inconsistent Bible verses that got me into debates with other Christians when I was younger. I saw the world in black and white evangelical hues. I was the girl who had the bumper sticker that read, God said it, I believe it that settles it.   But I have always been a blessed woman who has possessed strong minded female friends. And it was one of those friends who first wrangled with me that God does indeed esteem women as fully as men. Just look at how Jesus treated women. He was scandalous. Rabbis of his time were not to look let alone speak to women publicly or touch them. Yet Jesus related freely with women, breaking all social and cultural and religious protocol.

So the issue of female equality in the typical protestant church is reduced to the interpretation of a few Bible verses. The problem here is that rigid beliefism locks many people into an immovable perspective that leaves no room for a spirit of inquiry or respect for differing opinions.  Like this commenter who left this challenging remark at my blog in response to my post about women's equality in the church:

You need to be reminded that this world isn't about you and what goes on in your mind. This about God and what he wants, and if he were to demand that there be a separate, lower section of seats in the church for women to sit in, then as a believer in God you better sit there! Now obviously I'm using a more extreme case of "sexism" or whatever you would call it to illustrate my point, but at least you understand it.
 If you disagree with that argument then you are disagreeing with God, because whatever God asks of you, you need to do.
 It's a simple fact that Eve took the fruit and ate it before giving it to Adam and convincing him to eat it as well. So you tell me, why do you think God doesn't want women to lead the church?   (from How God Messed Up My Religion)

I wish I were making this up, but nope, sexism is alive and well in the 21st century and it's dressed up in pretty church language in Christendom.

A woman's identity is overrun with messages from her church that she is to be the sidekick to man's leading role in the narrative of life. These forces shape and inform a woman's perception of herself. Alisa reveals this when she writes,

"I sat through sermons where the pastor said we should train our children--but especially our sons--to be spiritual warriors, as if women's warfare was battling a grimy kitchen instead of the forces of darkness. I sat heavy in my seat while the pastor invited the men and boys, but not the women, to pray for a teenager going on a mission trip. Women probably shouldn't be missionaries, said the pastor's kid."

A thousand instances like this one will affect the image of God a woman will internalize.
I remember one women's Bible study I attended years ago. One of the participants said out loud to us in a moment of vulnerability, "I wonder if God just thinks women are meant to be doormats." She began crying with that admission, her feminine wound bleeding out  on the clean church carpet. The room sat quietly, and then, the moment passed, and we resumed our discussion of why biblical submission is a Christian woman's duty.

I've blogged about these things many times. There is always pushback like from the commenter above. It is controversial, and this I find absurd, an absolute absurdity that the issue of women and equality in church is an issue at all.

Hear me on this: in the 19th century American church, slavery was a controversial issue!

I'm glad Alisa is telling it like it is. Women need to do this. We need to tell our stories, to say out loud what's happened to us and to make sure we don't minimize Christianized oppression as a mere theological hiccup that's irritating but has to be accepted. No. I don't think so, and it sounds like Alisa doesn't think so either. The church might not have raised her right in helping empower her in all her womanly glory, but she's managed to find her voice despite her conditioning to be a domesticated female. That makes her a warrior woman  in my mind, no matter her faith or politics.

Pam Hogeweide is a blogger and writer. Her first book, Unladylike: Resisting the Injustice of Inequality in the Church, confronts and dismantles Christianized sexism. It will be released by on Amazon January 23. Pam lives in Portland, Oregon with her husband Jerry and their two teenagers.

With today's post, I want to take a look at chapter 8 of Alisa Harris's book, "Raised Right:  How I Untangled my Faith from Politics."  Ms. Harris selected "Judge Not" for the chapter's title, almost certainly to bring up Jesus's own injunction against judging as retold in Matthew 7.  I think that the entirety of Matthew 7:1-5[1] is relevant to both the theme of chapter 7 of Ms. Harris's book and her approach to it, so I'd like to quote it here:

"Judge not, that you be not judged. For with what judgment you judge, you will be judged; and with the measure you use, it will be measured back to you.  And why do you look at the speck in your brother's eye, but do not consider the plank in your own eye?  Or how can you say to your brother, 'Let me remove the speck from your eye'; and look, a plank is in your own eye?  Hypocrite! First remove the plank from your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.

This passage does not end with simply saying, "Don't judge."  It goes on to explain that whatever standard you choose to pick up and judge others with is likely to be the same standard that others turn around and judge you on.  If you nit-pick others' every actions, pointing out every thing you consider to be wrong, people are likely to scour your own behavior for things to criticize.  If you tend to be be more lax and easy-going, others are more likely to cut you some slack too.

Ms. Harris appears to apply this as she goes from telling her story about discovering with disbelief that some of her Christians friends are Democrats to recalling her own experiences promoting feminism and being criticized and even attacked by other Christians[3].  She describes how her promotion of feminist thought[4] and the slack both she and her employer at the time -- a Christian publication -- took a great deal of flak, and how it caused her to soften her own views on how other evangelicals might approach certain political ideas differently than she did.  Her empathy enabled her to realize things are not always as stark and simplistic as one might first believe, and that a more nuanced understanding of the complexities of reality may lead rational people to complex positions that differ greatly.

I found myself more willing to believe thatpeople can hold blends of belief that seem incongruous to someone else.  I could be a Christian and a feminist; someone else could be a Christian and a Democrat.

Is it any wonder that to those who want to continue seeing the world in simple terms of black and white, this kind of empathy is dangerous enough to be decried as heresy?

Notes:
[1]  As an aside, while looking up this passage, I noted that it comes immediately after the "don't worry about what tomorrow will bring" passage and is immediately followed by  the whole "ask and you shall receive" passage and a variant on Golden Rule.[2]     It seems to me that Jesus really could've titled the whole sermon something like "Silly thing that everyone does that creates more stress and problems for themselves and others."

[2]  In reality, I think Jesus's "judge not" passage is actually a specialized application of/corollary to the Golden Rule anyway, which I hope comes out in the rest of this blog post.

[3]  Not surprisingly, many of the fellow Christians who attacked her were men.

[4]  I want to wait until next week to delve more deeply into Ms. Harris's feminism, the response she received from her fellow evangelicals, and possibly even how it might have affected her.  I feel it deserves attention in its own right.  Plus, I'd like to offer a blogging buddy an invitation to share her insights on the topic.

I've had a few ideas for a post running around in my head for a few days now.  I want to explore how gender is treated in modern Paganism, how a binary view of gender[2] influences Paganism (most notably Wicca and those traditions closely related to it), and whether it's a good or bad thing.  However, that post is nowhere near ready to go up.  However, thinking about the topic brought up a recent memory that I'd like to reflect on.

Earlier this year, Z. Budapest came to our town and held a tarot workshop at Psychic's Thyme, in which each woman in attendance received a personal reading from Ms. Budapest.  The event was well attended and from all reports I've heard, it was a great success.

As the event approached, I had many customers at the shop ask me if I was planning to attend.  I'd simply smile and point out that I would not be attending, as the workshop was for women only, and express hope that they would have a good time at the workshop.

Apparently, during the workshop, one of the women decided to ask Ms. Budapest why she had made the event women only.  She started her reply by explaining that this was a special event intended to strengthen and nurture women, and that part of that was giving them a special place free with men.  I'm totally on board with her on all of those points.  While I certainly would have enjoyed to meet and learn from someone as experienced and renowned as Ms. Budapest, I agree that -- especially in our patriarchal society that tends to devalue and marginalize women -- it makes perfect sense to say, "some things are just for the women because they deserve it."

The ending of her explanation was a bit more problematic to me.  Part of her argument was that men already have a "special place" that caters to them.  She went on to say that the place in question is known as the Vatican.

As I said, I have no problem with women-only events and spaces.  In fact, I highly approve of them.  However, I do take issue with the suggestion -- even if done in jest -- that as a man, I have my own space within the Catholic church.

The first -- somewhat obvious in my opinion -- with that suggestion is that as a gay man, I'm not a "proper man" in the eyes of the Vatican.  I don't meet their understandings of what the proper role of men is, at least when it comes to terms of sexual behavior.[3]  In short, I don't meet the Catholic standards of manhood and would find any attempt to do so terribly painful.  As I've heard some feminists say, patriarchy is hell on women in particular, but it's ultimately not good for anyone.

That actually brings me to my second issue with the suggestion.  If patriarchal institutions like Catholicism aren't good for anyone -- or even if they were bad for women and perfectly fine for men in general and me in particular -- why would I want to take part in it, thereby supporting its continuation.

There are a lot of patriarchal institutions out there, and the problem isn't just the Catholic church.  Some of those institutions -- like my career field -- would be hard, if not impossible to simply walk away from.  I have to deal with the fact that I'm a part of them -- and I try my best not to feed into their patriarchal nature and even do what little I can think of to help break it down.  But I have no reason or need to be a part of Catholicism, and I certainly don't want to support or endorse its institutionalized patriarchy.[4]

If I'm going to seek out a male-only, male-affirming space, I'd much rather find one that has figured out how to be male-affirming without doing so at women's expense.

Note:
[1]  And I pray for the day I figure out how to stop doing so altogether.  Even unintentionally.

[2]  Though it may be more accurate to say that polarities are discussed in gendered terms, but that's something that needs a full post to explore.

[3]  I suspect that's not the only place the Catholic church might take issue with my "masculinity," however.

[4]  Plus, there's a good bit of Catholic theology I disagree with, being a Vanic witch and all.

Happy Yule![1]

The winter solstice -- that point where the sun's rays are least direct on the Northern Hemisphere -- officially takes place tomorrow morning at 5:30 UTC.  For those of us in the Eastern time zone (UTC -5:00), that translates to tonight/tomorrow morning at 12:30am.

The winter solstice marks the longest night of the year and the triumphant return of the light, longer days, and warmth.  To some Pagans and Wiccans, it represents the rebirth of the sun god.  Yule brings a sense of rejoicing, the darkest time following Samhain has is about to pass and the half-year reign of the underworld will begin to wane and give way to the brightness and warmth that is vital to our survival.

However, I think it's important to remember as we begin to pass back into more light that we need the time of darkness to survive as well.  After all, the growing season and bountiful harvest rely on the gestational period of the dark winter months, just as our own psyches require downtime and decreased activity.

Yule marks the rebirth of light into a fragile, not entirely ready form, but it's a birth that takes place thanks to the things that have been rejuvenated and seething in the darkness.  And while that fragile light shall grow stronger and eventually overcome the darkness for its time of reign, it will also be nourished by the waning darkness and the slumber it encourages.

So let the light shine in this quiet time, not as a brilliant force to be reckoned with, but as a comforting glimmer and a promise of what is to come.

Note:
[1]  Or for any readers who are in the Southern Hemisphere, happy Litha/Summer Solstice.  I hope you will indulge me in the rest of this post, however, as I focus on the mysteries I am currently experiencing/working with.

Today's look at Alisa Harris's book, "Raised Right:  How I Untangle My Faith from Politics" continues to look at chapter seven.  The underlying theme of this chapter -- which I did not adequately explain in last week's post, leaving my criticisms somewhat without the necessary context -- is about how Ms. Harris's conservative upbringing focused so much on politics that it consumed her whole identity and her relationships with other people.  I touched upon a similar phenomenon when I wrote about fundamentalist identity over at Confessions of a Former Conservative[1].  As such, I can identify with a lot of what Ms. Harris talks about in this chapter, though under slightly different conversations.

Harris speaks in the first paragraph of how her political leanings set her apart from many of her peers:

And while they were e-mailing one another about boys and fingernail polish, I was assuming the mantle of e-champion, which required two things of me:  an e-mail address to receive daily Bush campaign emails and the indefatigable conviction that I must forward to everyone I knew.

While I talked about how fundamentalist identity can consume one's entire identity, I had not considered discussing how it echoes Ms. Harris's own experience as described above.  Not only does such an identity consume a person, but it often becomes something that completely separates them from others.  In many ways, I imagine this is intentional, as fundamentalist and other conservative Christians find it important to identify themselves as separate from other people who are still "of the world."  As such, this obsession with in-group activities to the detriment to other interests that one might have in common with their peers becomes an important sacrificial act demonstrating one's "insider" status.

This is particularly troubling when one is young, as Ms. Harris notes that young conservative Christians -- and I'd add fundamentalist Christians regardless of political involvement -- tend to act like adults and associate more with adults.  There's a certain sense where "fighting the good fight" becomes so important that simple things like expressing an interest in boys or girls, popular culture, and other things, which ultimately can rob such youth of their childhood.

I've often looked back at my own youth -- and even my college years -- and wished I had them to live them over.  I find that because I was so focused on being the perfect Christian, I put a lot of my personal development -- especially emotional development -- on hold.

When I finally addressed these areas of my life, I found myself trying to work through things in an adult world.  I found myself learning social skills and emotional coping techniques while holding down a job and acting like a responsible adult, as opposed to having the luxury of working through these things while still being able to rely more on my parents and having far less responsibilities.

This is one of the "holes" or distortions that Ms. Harris alludes to in this chapter of those whose politics become the whole of their identity.  It's one that I felt she should have explored more.
 
Note:
[1]  As an aside, let me said that I'm quite pleased that Former Conservative has managed to rejoin the ranks of bloggers everywhere.  We missed you while you were silent, guy.

Note about page numbers:  I'm using an iBook copy of this book.  With iBook (and I believe most electronic books work this way), the book repaginates based on your font settings.  As such, I'm not sure how useful it will be to give page numbers.  For anyone who wants to know, I'm reading my iPad in portrait mode using the smallest font size, with a font setting of Palatino.  That's how I come by the page numbers I list in the post titles.

After spending last week following Arnold the Catholic around his church, we find ourselves meeting Pentecostal characters this week.  These are the characters that Peretti are most familiar with, as he he belongs to that same community.  Three church ladies,[1] Dee, Adrian,  Blanche, are leaving Antioch Pentecostal Mission after a Sunday morning service.  They begin to discuss the possibly supernatural experiences that Sally and Arnold have experienced as any good church lady would do to keep her part of the grapevine well-managed.

One of the interesting things about their conversation is the hesitant credulity with which they approach Sally's and Arnold's respective experiences.  Navigating the supernatural experiences that others claim to have is an ever-present aspect of Pentecostal culture.  On the one hand, to immediately dismiss the experiences of others invites others to be equally skeptical of one's own claims.  On the other, being too willing to blindly accept the claims of others leaves one open to being led astray by the dark and demonic powers.  This is demonstrated in the book when Blanche questions the weeping crucifix, suggesting that it sounds "awfully Catholic," as Pentecostals are particularly suspicious of Catholicism.[2]  Indeed, there has been much advice and even a good number of formulas on how Pentecostals might seek to determine if an experience truly a miraculous encounter with God.

Of course, as the women talk, Dee gasps and begins to pray in tongues, for she sees Jesus in the clouds.  She points out the figure to the other women who begin to see it.  Soon, a crowd grows around the women as more people begin to see Jesus in the clouds, and more details are added, such as Adrian who sees him holding a hand.

It's interesting to note that not everyone in the crowd can see Jesus, and some who do see him also see other animals.  Peretti writes this passage pretty masterfully in that we are left wondering whether particular experience is a true spiritual experience or the imagination of one woman that spreads among others, eager to share in that same experience.  One is left to wonder what really happened.

I find this interesting, considering this easily explained-away experience is happening to the very group who would -- at least on an intellectual level -- be likely to accept and even expect a more direct miracle such as Arnold's crying crucifix or Sally's disappearing messenger.  I imagine that Peretti is intentionally trying to keep a situation in which even the Pentecostal's can remain skeptical of of whether or not anything legitimately supernatural is occurring.

The question is, if something supernatural really is going on, why would the source of these events want to keep anyone skeptical?

Notes:
[1]  Is this the concept of church ladies something that needs to be explained to some readers?  Or is this a fairly universal concept among most Christian groups?

[2]  I should note that not all Pentecostals actually think that Catholics aren't "real Christians," at least not in the sense of being saved.  They believe that some Catholics might be true believers in the sense of being saved, but find much of Catholic doctrine (as they understand it) to be in error.

Warren Throckmorton is Associate Professor of Psychology at conservative Grove City College and the creator of the Sexual Identity Therapy Framework, a set of guidelines for therapists who wish to help gay people of faith (particularly a more conservative form of Christianity) to reconcile their sexuality with their faith.

Recently, Dr. Throckmorton wrote a blog post in which he discussed Christian media sources to refrain from discussing or even mentioning recent studies relating to sexual orientation.  The entire post (and the rest of his blog) is well worth reading, and is one of the reasons I respect Dr. Throckmorton.  As fellow gay blogger, Pomoprophet, put it while covering this post:

Throckmorten[sic] (though he doesn't fully agree with me) is the type of Evangelical Christian that I can actually respect. He is informed and thoughtful. When he talkes about "defending truth is the name of Jesus" he does so with the best data available on "the truth", not merely conservative talking points that fit nicely into his narrow view of the world. I find it ironic that many Evangelicals shun one of their own because he reports the facts and the studies and calls them on their anti-gay animus.

The fact that Dr. Throckmorton has faced much criticism from his fellow evangelicals -- some have even pressured Grove City College to terminate his employment there -- for his honesty and his integrity makes his commitment to both all the more admirable.  However, I would like to suggest that in this post, Dr. Throckmorton has gone beyond simply standing up for the truth, but acting in what some Christians might consider a prophetic role.  Consider this quote from his blog post:

Many evangelicals get their information from NARTH through groups like Family Research Council, Focus on the Family, Exodus International, etc. Others get information from Christian media. However, these studies are not reported in these places. No wonder most evangelicals approach sexual orientation with a 1990s mindset. It is as if the evangelical world is in blackout mode when it comes to current studies on sexual orientation.

Dr. Throckmorton is not merely standing up for the truth, but he is calling out those here are hiding the truth, misconstruing it, or even lying about it.  This has become an endemic problem among many evangelical leaders (for more examples of this, simply check out a half dozen other posts from Dr. Throckmorton's blog, an equal number from Fred Clark's blog, and my own post from Wednesday.)

Note however, that Dr. Throckmorton's prophetic warning is not merely aimed at those leaders who would either leave their followers in ignorance or even actively deceive them.  His warning to those followers is also clear:  Do not assume that your leaders are being honest with you just because they're standing in front of a cross.  It is up to those who value truth to verify the veracity of what they're being told for themselves.  To do otherwise is to play some small part in their own deception.

Thank you, Dr. Throckmorton, for being such a voice for integrity and justice.

Note about page numbers:  I'm using an iBook copy of this book.  With iBook (and I believe most electronic books work this way), the book repaginates based on your font settings.  As such, I'm not sure how useful it will be to give page numbers.  For anyone who wants to know, I'm reading my iPad in portrait mode using the smallest font size, with a font setting of Palatino.  That's how I come by the page numbers I list in the post titles.

As I prepared to discuss the next passage in Frank Peretti's book, "The Visitation," I was struck with how Peretti misunderstands his own characters.  The introduction of Arnold Kowalski, the custodian of Antioch's Catholic church, makes that abundantly clear.  Arnold is a likable fellow, and I believe that Peretti takes care to present him as such, unlike the way L&J tend to present their non-RTC characters in the left behind series.  Arnold is depicted as an elderly, devout Catholic who takes great pleasure in serving his parishioners and someone for whom we are encouraged to feel compassion for as he goes about his job in pain from his worsening arthritis.

However, I'm not convinced that the internal monologue is in line with the character being presented.  Certainly, it is understandable for an old man in near-constant pain to wonder why God would leave him in pain.  If Arnold didn't wonder that, I would wonder about his basic humanity.  Instead, what I take issue with is Arnold's impulse to wonder how he can bargain with God:

Maybe I'm not serving God enough, he thought.  Maybe I need to work longer.  Maybe if I didn't take any money for what I do here...

Among evangelical Christians -- especially of the pentecostal stripe that makes up most of Peretti's own environment -- this line of thinking is quite common.  The idea that serving God brings on blessings and that the sign of trouble might be a sign of not being sufficiently faithful to God are common among such people.  If Arnold were the custodian of the local Assemblies of God church or even a nondenominational mega-church, the above line of thinking would make perfect sense.

But the Arnold presented in this story is a devout Catholic, and my personal -- albeit anecdotal -- experience suggests that this line of reasoning is not common among Catholics.  In my experience, Catholics are not particularly susceptible to bargaining with God or expecting HIm to take away their suffering.  Indeed, Catholics might be more apt to identify with their suffering and identify with Jesus.  After all, they consider the suffering of the Crucifixion to be far more central to their faith than most Protestants -- especially of the pentecostal and nondenominational variety -- are, hence their love of crucifixes.

Speaking of crucifixes, Arnold notices that the huge crucifix in the church appears to be shedding tears, so he seeks to investigate.  He checks out the tiny rivulet of water that is running down the crucified Christ's cheek, verifying that it is not being sourced from a leaky roof or a fault in nearby plumbing before reaching out to touch the apparent tear, expressing some anxiety and fear:

He reached, then hesitated from the very first tinge of fear.  Just what was he about to touch?  Dear God, don't hurt me.  He reached again, shakily extending his hand until his fingertips brushed across the wet trail of the tears.

Again, this strikes me as a case of Peretti not truly understanding who he established his character to be.  Why would Arnold fear a bit of water -- even unexplained as it was -- on the crucifix?  Does Peretti think that Arnold -- and Catholics in general -- are afraid to touch their crucifixes?  This would not surprise me, given most Protestant's misunderstanding of how Catholics view such thing.  To many Protestants, Catholic crucifixes are seen as idols, and they make the mistake of thinking that Catholics see such idols as inherently holy or in some way magical.  So the thought of touching a crucifix -- especially one that appears to be crying -- would be some fearsome thing.

In my experience, Catholics are much more practical-minded than that.  While they certainly view their crucifixes as important reminders of the Holy suffering of their Savior and why that suffering is worthy of respect, honor and praise, the crucifix itself deserves no such honor.  Catholics do not genuflect before the crucifix to give honor to a wooden figure, but to give honor and respect for what is represented by it.  It's a distinction I think that Peretti is failing to understand here.

The other possibility is that Peretti is portraying Arnold as a man who, having determined there is no "natural" explanation for the tears, now thinks it's from a supernatural source (be it demonic or divine).  As such, his fear is regards to what will happen to hem when he comes into direct contact with this supernatural phenomenon.

This explanation doesn't ring true to me either.  We have just learned that Arnold is in near-constant pain which has been increasing over the years.  Given his circumstances and his reluctant resignation to his lot in life, I find it strange that he'd be ready to expect the supernatural already.  I think it far more reasonable that touching the tears would simply be the next step in Arnold's so-far methodical and common sense investigation of what he's seeing.  At this point, he should be touching the "tears" to see if they're actually there or a trick of the light on the grain of the wood.

It turns out, however, that the tears are indeed supernatural and they cause Arnold's arthritis to instantly go away.  I suspect that this is the real reason for Arnold's trepidation, written in by an author who wanted to a build a little suspense while leading up to this miraculous occurrence.  Those motives are understandable, but doing it at the expense of understanding how Arnold as described might act is problematic, all the same.

In chapter six of "Raised Right:  How I Untangled My Faith From Politics," Alisa Harris describes her initial support of the Iraq War and how she came to question her faith in that war and her stance on war in general.  She describes one experience that served as a catalyst for the re-evaluation process:

But one day I popped in my grandmother's big-band cassette tape and heard a song that pricked me with uneasiness.  A gunner fell and the sky pilot set aside his Bible and took up the gunner's gun, singing, "Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition, and we'll all stay free."

I hit Fast Forward, scrambling the buoyant trumpets and brassy tune. it was all right to portray the long-suffering nobility of soldiers writing letters to their sweethearts and thinking of home or even the soldiers fretting about their girls sitting under the apple trees with other men.  But with this song I could see the gunner lying in pieces and the sky pilot using the phrase we all toss so casually -- "Well, praise the Lord" -- before he used the ammunition to rip a hole in a human being.

Prior to the above passage, Harris had described romantic notions of war and acknowledged in hindsight that they had been truly romantic.  However, this song struck her with a more bloody reality.  What seems to strike her however, is not only this bloody reality, but the casual way in which it is talked about and almost taken lightly by the flippant -- at least as used in this context -- phrase "Praise the Lord."  She repeats her astonishment about such flippancy of a line uttered by Gary Cooper's character in Sergeant York compares killing German soldiers in World War II to "shootin' turkeys."

As Harris faced the realities of war and the thought that war involves killing people -- something generally condemned by the Christian god -- she finds such casual talk about it to be troubling.  This forces her to consult with other people, both people in her lives and the great minds of people she respects as she grapples with this tough decision.

It's this grappling with tough questions and the openness to being discomforted by such easy comments that interests me most in this chapter, because it's something I think is too often lacking in conservative evangelical circles.[1]  Flippant phrases intended to simplify complex topics and therefore discourage uncomfortable thoughts over them are far too common.  They allow those who hear and repeat them to pass over a topic quite quickly and state a position without thinking abut the full implications of that position -- especially for other people.

It's only when those simplified phrases are shown in contrast to the much messier reality they seek to gloss over that such phrase's flippancy becomes uncomfortably obvious.  Granted, not everyone responds to that discomfort as well as Harris did.  Rather than digging for deeper answers, some will simply dig their heels in harder and even become hostile to anyone who attempts to show them the deeper complexity of the topic and the horrible insensitivity of such simple catch-phrases.

In time, they might be able to cover up the discomfort again and stop thinking about the reality.  But one might hope that more such moments of discomfort might crop up, continuing to afflict the comfortable until they seek to comfort the afflicted.

Notes:
[1]  In fairness to the conservative evangelical Christians, it's lacking in plenty of other circles as well, including some of the circles I belong to.

Note about page numbers:  I'm using an iBook copy of this book.  With iBook (and I believe most electronic books work this way), the book repaginates based on your font settings.  As such, I'm not sure how useful it will be to give page numbers.  For anyone who wants to know, I'm reading my iPad in portrait mode using the smallest font size, with a font setting of Palatino.  That's how I come by the page numbers I list in the post titles.

Having met our mysterious crucifixion survivor and watching his discovering of some unknown power last week, we turn the first chapter of Peretti's "The Visitation" this week to meet nineteen year old Sally Fordyce as she leaves her home in Antioch Washington[1] to go for a walk.  We learn that Sally is nineteen and has returned to Antioch to live with her parents after a short-lived relationship with a trucker named Joey.  Peretti describes that relationship from Sally's point of view:

She had believed everything Joey, the trucker, told her about love, and how she was that girl silhouetted on his mud flaps.  The marriage -- if it happened at all -- lasted three months.  When he found another woman more "intellectually stimulating," Sally was bumped from the truck's sleeper and found herself coming full circle, right back to bring Charlie and Meg's daughter living at home again.

This is the perfect evangelical cautionary tale against "fast relationships," especially those involving premarital sex.  Sally is that "poor girl" who trusted the promises of the "wrong boy," fell head over heels, got used, and had her heart broken and dumped back home, ruined.

As anyone who has ever dated can tell you, there's a lot of truth to this story.  I suspect most of us could tell that story of that person who promised us the world and eternal love, believed them, and ended up getting hurt.  I don't take issue with any particular detail of this story, as it's quite plausible.

And yet, the way in which this tale is told and meant to be perceived in evangelical circles is troubling to me.  This is not a tale of a young woman who had her heart broken when love didn't work out, but the tale of the foolish girl who made a lot of bad choices and got the heartbreak coming to her.  Let me break down some of the hidden (or maybe not-so-hidden) elements of this message.

First, we have Joey comparing Sally to silhouettes (presumably of a sexy woman in some pose that's meant to be provocative) on the mud flaps of his truck.  In evangelical culture, this is a hint that Joey is a sex-obsessed boy who would seek to sexually objectify any woman he meets.  In the evangelical mindset, this is probably seen as a sure sign that Joey watches porn too, and that if Sally had been smarter, she would've realized that Joey was bad news and only interested in one thing where she was concerned.

Add to this the phrase "if it happened at all" in regard to the marriage, which suggests that maybe Joey and Sally didn't officially tie the knot, but instead were simply cohabitating in Joey's truck as the traveled around for his work.  Again, this is a clear warning sign in evangelical circles, as any guy who will shack up with a girl without "making her an honest woman" is bound to dump her at some point.  Again, to the evangelical mind, this is something that Sally should have seen as a sign that Joey was trouble and avoided him.

The thing is, this is how some evangelicals tend to envision all relationships that meet their expectations of "doing marriage right" look.  There are no well-meaning couples who decide to live together and do their best to make things work, only to fail.  If such a relationship fails, it's because the couple "did it wrong."  Even if the couple does everything "right" according to the culture, if the relationship fails, it's a sign they "didn't really do it right after all."  And while they might be sympathetic with Sally, there's that part that sees this as consequences she brought on herself.

This is further shown as Peretti tells us that Sally saw her relationship with Joey as her chance for freedom.  Of course, Sally's understanding of freedom is painted as immature.  Now that she's back home, she has to cook, clean, and help with other household chores, things that she apparently didn't have to do while living with Joey.

Of course, to Sally, freedom also meant escape from the small town of Antioch.  To her, Joey was her one chance to escape.  I find this interesting because Peretti is playing on a cliche here that I don't buy into.  Contrary to popular belief, not everyone who grows up in small towns wants to escape them.  Even some of those who are not "wheat farmers" decide they like their cozy little hometown and stick around.  After all, there's a lot to be said for living in a small community where everyone has known almost everyone else since they were born.  It can be quite comfortable.

Yes, some of us[2] decide we'd prefer more excitement.  Or we decide that our chosen careers require us to move.  Or we decide we'd have better dating options in a larger, more diverse community.  But we don't necessarily just leave our small towns for the sake of escaping our small towns.

This is, I suppose, where I find Sally a bit poorly written.  There is nothing driving her desire to get out of Antioch.  There is nothing pushing her away from her hometown, nor is there anything pulling her to some new location.

Of course, that's why Sally never found an escape other than Joey.  She has no ambition of her own.  She has no goals or self-determined destination.  And that's why she is still (or at least back) in Antioch.  So she latches onto a man -- a trucker who tells her that she's sexy and beautiful, no less -- to provide her with her escape.

Elephant in the room time:  Don't a lot of evangelicals hold this up as a woman's perfect -- and only -- duty?  Isn't being a wife beholden to a particular man part and parcel of many evangelical descriptions of the ideal woman.  So here we have Sally, who seems to be latching onto that idea herself.  She turned to a man to be her ticket to the good life.  And yet, because (1) she didn't "do it right" and (2) she "failed," she's a "poor girl" to be pitied/tsk-tsked by the same people who probably contributed to her thinking that this was the perfect life for her.

After all this set up, Sally meets a random stranger that has a message for her:

"I'm here to bring you a message.  Your prayers have been answered, Sally.  Your answer is on his way.  Be looking for him."

Sally's answer to her prayers -- her prayers to get out of this small town -- is on his way.  You heard that, the alleged answers to her prayers is another man.

You can almost hear the evangelical readers sardonically thinking, "Here we go again."


Notes:
[1]  Google maps knows of no Antioch in Washington, though there apparently is a "Highway 9" that runs through that state.  I suspect that this is another attempt by Peretti to create a plausible sounding small town, as Yamikuronue concludes about Ashtion in "This Present Darkness."

[2]  I grew up in the rural town of Tioga, Pennsylvania, so I'm a "small town boy" myself.

Rather than moving on to chapter six of Alisa Harris's book, "Raised Right:  How I Untangled my Faith from Politics," I've decided to remain in chapter five.  In last Monday's post, I mainly focused on Harris's attention on repentance (for others) and the need for Divine wrath to bring it about.  This week, I want to look at the underlying motivation for this desire for nation-wide repentance, which Harris also covers.

Ultimately, when 9/11 struck, the conservative Christians like Harris were hoping for a return to God by the whole nation.  The idea here is that they want to reclaim America's place as the great Christian nation it was intended to be.[1]  To them, they want to create the great Christian America, which they assume will be the apple of God's eye, much like Israel was the apple of God's eye throughout the New Testament.[2]  So pulling down the separation of Church and State and pushing the supremacy of their version of Christianity is essential to establishing their version of God's kingdom.

Years ago, I wrote on another (now defunct) blog that I felt that American evangelical's desires to remake America into a Christian Nation struck me as a modern day golden calf.  In their efforts to bring this about, they have ignored the teachings of Christ and the methods for Kingdom-building that he and his apostles promoted throughout the New Testament.  It seems that in this regard, I have found a kindred spirit in Alisa Harris.  Harris even notes that this particular idolatry isn't new:

Before American democracy became the form of government Christians favored, medieval Christians believed God favored the right of a king to rule over his people, protecting them in return for their allegiance and service.  The Puritan founder of Massachusetts, John Winthrop, didn't believe we were all equals but that "God Almighty" had made "some ... rich, some poor, some high and eminent in power and dignity, other mean and in subjection.  He and his fellow leaders thought a truly godly commonwealth should drive out Quakers, Catholics, Baptists, dissenters, questioners. ... Christians today say the Bible endorses capitalism; Christians two hundred years ago said it endorsed the divine right of kings.  Both missed the point, which is that the Bible is neither an eighteenth- nor a twenty-first-century policy textbook.  It endorses neither the fiefdom nor the global superpower.  America is not a "uniquely Christian" nation, and it never was.

That last statement touches upon the biggest condemnation of the Religious Right's idolization of America:  They forget that there are other Christians and Christian majorities in the world.  They forget that the Christians in India or Egypt trying to live godly lives deserve as much dignity and respect as their American counterparts.  In focusing on the Great Christian Nation, it seems to me that many American evangelicals have put themselves above their brothers and sisters in other parts of the world.

Notes:
[1]  Of course, this whole idea is based on the faulty claims of people like David Barton, who seek to prove that America was founded with the intention of making it a Christian nation at all, and particularly the brand of Christianity the Religious Right endorses.

[2]  This is one of the bizarre thing about the relationship between American evangelicals and Israel.  On the one hand, American evangelicals talk about Israel's status as "God's chosen people."  Yet, on the other hand, they see themselves as Israel's replacement in that official capacity.

Trigger Warnings:  Homophobia, suicidal thoughts, sexually violent dreams, frank sexual talk.  If you don't feel you can handle reading this post, I completely understand.  Please feel free to ask Personal Failure to share one of her otters with you instead.

Confessions of a Former Conservative is one of my favorite blogs, as he critiques, challenges, and denounces some of the more spiteful things said by fundamentalist and other ultra-conservative Christians online.  One of the blogs he regularly critiques is written by a woman named Gerie.  He recently posted a critique on her condemnation of Christians who are pro-gay and reaffirmed her own certainty that being gay is a sin.  As she quoted the Romans 1 "clobber passage," I offered the following commentary on Former Conservative's post:
 

You know what? That particular passage pisses me off. You know why? Because it suggests that the cause of homosexuality is idolatry. Well, guess what? I grew up a good little Christian. i said the sinner's prayer and meant it. I did everything I was supposed to. And I still turned out gay. I tried to convince myself it was a phase. I stayed gay. I prayed to God and begged with Him to turn me straight. I'm still gay.

So you know what? Fuck Romans 1 (or at least Gerie's interpretation of it.) Because I did everything I was supposed to and I still ended up fucking gay. So obviously, either Romans 1 is bullshit or Gerie's interpretation of it is.

And I'm not the only person who had that experience. There's at least one website dedicated to people who did everything right and even tried to overcome their gayness and yet remained gay.

I understand that Gerie's the type that will continue to believe her whacked-out interpretation over reality, but come on. She can at least acknowledge that she's a reality-denier. It'd be the honest thing to do, and given how important the truth (supposedly) is to her.....

Apparently, Gerie read my statement, because it's a fairly that her Monday post is a direct response to what I said.  As I read it, I was both amused and disgusted.  I was amused because I found many of the things Gerie said in response to my comment to be quite predictable.  I was disgusted for the same reasons.  Gerie's response is a non-response.  A response actually engages with what was said and seeks dialogue.  Gerie's lengthy missive makes no such attempt.  Instead, it is little more than a reiteration of her position and an attempt to make my own personal narrative fit into her preconceived ideas on the topic.

Gerie says the following of me and my comment in the introduction to her post:

But this heartfelt comment that I read, stood out from the others and I am sure, touched the heart of God. I know this because from the time I read it, the Lord had me on my knees, praying and interceding with many tears for this person. Who I don't know personally and have never met, but for a little while, as I prayed for him, I could feel the pain in his heart, and the inner conflict and turmoil that sin has caused in his life.

To be frank, I find the above statements patronizing and sanctimonious.  Gerie claims that my post had her in tears and she had this great emotional experience over me.  However, note that her response is simply to pray and "know what I'm feeling."  And yet she did not make any attempt to contact me.  She did not join the open conversation on Former Conservative's blog.  She did not try to find my email address[1] in order to contact me directly.  Instead, she decided to write a blog post about me (she couldn't even be bothered to address her comments to me) on a blog that doesn't allow comments.

These are not the actions of someone who wants dialogue.  I will go so far as to say that this is not someone who even cares, despite her claims to the contrary.  A person who cares about someone seeks to engage in conversation with that other person.  Gerie is simply having another self-aggrandizing moment of (faux) piety.

 I also find it curious that based on a single, 225-word (not counting the quoted passage) comment , Gerie is sure that she knows exactly what I am feeling[2] and why.  If Gerie thinks that such a short message can give her a complete insight into my numerous and complex feelings on the topic of my sexual, romantic, and emotional feelings and the fact that I was brought up to think those things made me evil (a position I have since long rejected both with good reason and for the better), she is sorely mistaken.  And there's certainly no inner conflict.  I've long made peace with my feelings and the Divine.  So any "inner conflict" Gerie is sensing is an invention of her own imagination.

Gerie takes a pause in her discussion to offer the following aside to parents, which I find very telling:

Parents, take the time to talk to your children and pay attention to what's going on inside of their hearts. I am learning that Satan attacks our children mercilessly simply because he can get away with it and he is never suspected.

I bolded the part that I find most interesting in a most disturbing way.  Reread that and let it sink in.  According to Gerie, Satan is allowed to attack children.  By whom?  Well, by Gerie's god, of course!  Again, take a moment for that to really sink in.  Gerie's god allows Satan to attack children.  He does nothing to stop it.  What's worse, if Satan's attacks on children works, Gerie's god sends those children to eternal torment as a punishment for not standing up to those attacks.

Am I the only one that thinks that makes Gerie's god a complete fucking bastard?

I'll also note that ex-gay ministries and reparative therapy "experts" have spewed all this "parents be careful or your children could go stray" stuff before.  Some of the family members of former ex-gays will gladly tell you that it places an unbearable sense of guilt on them.  Mom and Dad don't need any more shaming over my sexual, romantic, and emotional feelings than I do.

Gerie continues:

For instance whether a child accepts the belief that they are gay or not, and believing they were made that way or were born that way, because the feelings were there as far back as they can remember.

People don't believe they're gay.  People believe that there's a god who hears their prayers.  People believe that humans are basically good.  People believe that buying lotto tickets from the middle of the row increases their chances of winning.  These are all intellectual ideas with a great deal of doubt, uncertainty, and unverifiability.

Romantic and sexual attractions are too concrete and too visceral to be considered mere belief.  The boy who is left feeling cold at the thought of kissing Judy or Lilly,[3] but whose heart flutters at the thought of kissing Ken or Roger has more than a "belief" that he is guy.  The young girl who wakes up from her fifth dream about making out with a girl all sweaty and aroused has more than a "belief" that she is gay.

Sexual orientation is about feelings and attractions.  These things are inherently involuntary.  People don't plan to feel a certain way, and emotions tend to happen on their own.  If those feelings tend to be towards members of the same sex and of a romantic and sexual nature, that person is gay.  There's no "belief" involved.

The belief that a person is born gay is correctly identified as a belief.  However, it is a belief that is based in a great deal of evidence and common sense.  There has been a great deal of research that has demonstrated a high level of certainty that sexual orientation is biologically determined and most likely a matter of genetics combined with pre-natal conditions.  Of course, this brings me to the next statement made by Gerie:

Common sense tells us that if God will judge homosexuality as sin that He would never intentionally plant those desires in our hearts, but that the source of those feeling had to originate from somewhere else.

Gerie is correct about what common sense tells us.  However, I will argue that her conclusion is counter-intuitive and completely works the reasoning in the wrong direction.

You see, all the research and the experiences of actual gay people suggests very strongly -- to those who value empirical data above blindly following dogma -- that all those feelings and desires are inborn.  As such, the reasonable conclusion is that no loving god would "make" us gay and then condemn us, so no loving god would be condemn those who are gay.

Instead, Gerie chooses to assume -- based on nothing other than a dogmatic acceptance of a "literal interpretation" of certain clobber passages that theologians have challenged repeatedly -- that God hates homosexuality.  So instead of relying on scientific research and the experiences of countless gay people, she decides there must be another explanation for gayness.  As I said in my original comment, Gerie is engaging in reality-denial here.

Of course, Gerie's explanation is still problematic.  Her solution is to say that Satan gave people those feelings, even at a very young age.  But as I noted earlier, Gerie's god still had to allow Satan to do this.  I do not accept that a loving god would condemn people to eternal damnation for choosing to cope with the feelings He allowed Satan to give them the best way they know how any more than he'd condemn them if He had given those same people those same feelings Himself.

Gerie's god simply makes no sense to me unless that I accept that He stands for some things I consider morally abhorrent.  If I accept that, then I have no desire to have anything to do with such a god.

After going on about Satan's evil ways of getting people to believe various things and God's abusive ways of sending people to eternal torment for falling for Satan's tricks, Gerie hits upon a rather ironic statement about the hard questions:

Never go to your Pastor or any man with the hard questions that he couldn't possibly know the answer to, go to God.

I find this ironic because Gerie has effectively condemned herself.  If you read through the post I'm critiquing and the rest of your blog, you will find that Gerie makes a regular practice of "answering the hard questions" herself.  Does this mean that secretly, Gerie believes that she is God?  It would certainly explain a number of things.

I'm sure that Gerie would defend herself by saying that she's going to the Bible and giving not her own answers, but God's answers.  The problem with this claim, however, is that this is the same claim that just about every pastor I know would make (except that many pastors I know would honestly add that it's their understanding of God's answers "as it stands now" and that it may be inaccurate).  There's nothing that actually demonstrates that Gerie has any more authority to make that claim than they do.

At any rate, Gerie suggests that the correct thing to do is to ultimately go to God with the hard questions:

So we should always try to understand things from Gods perspective. Get on your knees and go to God and ask for wisdom and understanding. Be persistent and never give up. We want everything to happen overnight and can I tell you that it just doesn't work that way. Not with the things that matter.

This is sound advice, except that it assumes that people like me -- or people who disagree with Gerie's understanding of a wrathful god hell-bent on doing horrible things to people He disapproves of for reasons he has a hand in -- haven't done this already.  If Gerie doesn't think I and tohers sought god earnestly and painfully, then her understanding of me is fatally flawed.  To be blunt, she has no understanding of me.  As I mentioned before, she is merely making assumptions about me and those like me to make our narratives fit her preconceived notions.  Gerie is engaging in more reality-denial.

As for the comment that God doesn't answer questions over night, I will simply comment that I waited on God for eight years for an answer and only came to the answer I did when it nearly destroyed me.  Between accepting that I'm gay and slitting my wrists -- something I seriously considered for over thirty minutes and in such detail that I can still picture the curve of the blade, the grain of the wood, and the exact color of the brass rivets of the knife I was going to use -- I decided that any truly Divine being would rather see me accept my feelings.

If Gerie and her god doesn't understand that...well I'd say my opinion of them would go down, but I'm not sure that's possible at this point.

Next, Gerie moves into one of her favorite subjects: how it's important to fear her god.  Now quite frankly, considering all the horrible things Gerie's god allegedly does, I'd be apt to fear him if I believed in him at all, too.  That's a god who should be feared, not loved.

To support her position, Gerie quotes Luke 12:5:

But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear Him who, after He has killed, has power to cast into hell; yes, I say to you, fear Him!

So there you have it.  Even Jesus says we should fear god.  But maybe we should see what Jesus had to say in the verses that bracket that one.

4 "And I say to you, My friends, do not be afraid of those who kill the body, and after that have no more that they can do. 5 But I will show you whom you should fear: Fear Him who, after He has killed, has power to cast into hell; yes, I say to you, fear Him!  6 "Are not five sparrows sold for two copper coins?[a] And not one of them is forgotten before God. 7 But the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Do not fear therefore; you are of more value than many sparrows.

So basically, Jesus isn't saying "fear God" so much as he's saying "if you're going to fear anyone, it should be God, but you shouldn't even fear him."  This actually goes along with what the apostle John said about love casting out fear.

I'm going to jump over the section where Gerie goes on at length about how for heaven to work, God has to have perfect obedience in order.  That in itself would make a great blog post.  However, for now, I'm simply going to suggest that reading this part of Gerie's post about how God needs to be a tyrant for everybody's own good with Bob Altemyer's book "The Authoritarians" in mind.

The thing I will note, however, is that Gerie makes a switch in her argument about morality at this point.  Up to this point, she has been calling for blind obedience to God's commands (or Gerie's interpretation of them) simply because He's God and if you don't, He'll torment you forever and ever.  Now she's trying to claim that God only does this because it's the only way to keep things going smoothly, as if suddenly keeping things going smoothly is now the real reason for morality rather than avoiding God's wrath.  Of course, she offers no proof that (her interpretation of) God's commands will actually make things go smoothly, so this comes off more like an abusive father who is claiming that beating his child until limbs break or a lung gets punctured is "for their own good."  Both arguments are just as unsubstantiated.

Of course, it also implies a real flaw with Gerie's god.  If the only way that God can make things to work is to give commands from on high and torment those who disobey, he's a terrible God.  Hell, he's worse than some of the worst human leaders to have ever walked.  If Gerie's god has no way of motivating people to follow him,[4] then he needs to go back to god/management school.

Gerie eventually gets back to me and my comment, offering this rather condescending analysis:

The comment that I read, said that he did everything right, and he is still gay. He said the sinners prayer and begged God to take away his gay tendencies. What we have to understand is that saying the "sinners prayer" won't save anybody, despite what we have been taught by church people. And understand that all of your sinful desires don't go away automatically once you are saved.

You know, I'm always amused by the number of conservative Christians who claim to know my heart.  In this case, Gerie doubts the sincerity of my prayer of repentance.  Other people simply think I didn't pray hard enough, have enough faith in God, or didn't give God enough time.  I'd like to know what Divine Power these people think they possess to know what I did, where my heart was, or what I was really thinking for my childhood, teenage years, and even my early twenties.

I could give a lengthy story about my life, my choices, and my pains.  I could talk about the horror the first time I woke up from a wet dream, horrified that the dream had involved not a girl, but a male classmate[5].  I can talk about the nights I laid in bed for several minutes to an hour praying for forgiveness over every little perceived sin -- and things I wasn't sure really was a sin but asked for forgiveness for "just in case."  I could talk about the time I spent in church praying, worshiping, and leading others in the same.  I could talk about the time I spent in high school and college being just as obnoxiously "righteous" as Gerie.

But I won't, because I don't have to explain myself to Gerie.  I don't have to explain myself to anyone.  And i certainly won't bother trying to explain myself to someone who doesn't have the decency to ask me rather than just go off making whatever assumptions about me will prop up her preconceived notions.  I deserve more respect than that and I have more respect for myself than that.

Gerie goes on to say the following:

What saves us is that after we turn to Jesus with a sorrow for the condition we have allowed ourselves to get into, that we firmly determine in our heart that we will never commit another sin.

The problem with this is that Gerie is now trying to blame the person for being gay.  However, Gerie has already conceded that someone else -- she believes it's Satan -- has planted these feelings in gay people.  So basically, Gerie's trying to say that it's both not gay people's fault for being gay and is their fault.  Gerie has just contradicted herself at this point, and it becomes apparent to me that Gerie will say whatever she has to in order to defend her position, even if it means contradicting herself.  Logic, consistency, and reality be damned.

Gerie goes on to tell me (oh, it appears she does address me in the second person after all -- after a huge wall of text) that while my feelings may really, they are a lie.  You know, while I understand that feelings are not always an accurate depiction of reality -- like I how I occasionally feel that no one loves me despite the fact that there are dozens of people who love me -- this idea of "feelings as a lie" as Gerie presents it makes no sense.

Being gay is all about feelings.  If you have certain feelings towards members of the same sex and only members of the same sex, you are gay.  That's the very definition of the word gay.  So to acknowledge that I really have those exist and yet deny that I'm gay is a contradictions -- or an attempt to redefine what it means to be gay.  I'm afraid Gerie will lose that battle every time.

Next, Gerie goes on to demonstrate her complete lack of comprehension of homosexuality:

Stop right now, believing in your heart that you are gay, its a lie! You are caught in a trap by believing the lie. As a man thinketh in his heart so is he. Look at yourself. You are a MAN!  You are not a woman. God Himself created you and He made you a man!

In my thirty-seven years of life, I have never doubted I am a man.  I have never thought of myself as a woman.[6]  Gerie seems to be conflating being trans* with being gay or bi.  They are not the same thing.  It is perfectly possible to see oneself as a man[7] and still prefer the romantic and sexual companionship of another man.

Again, Gerie's inability to understand what it actually means to be gay and her willingness to uphold her incorrect assumptions about what it means to be gay rather than learning from the narratives of actual gay people shows a callousness and lack of caring in her that is inexcusable.  Someone who will not even listen to what I have to say and consider my narrative as it is rather than what they want it to be is not someone who deserves my ear or my respect.

I'm going to end my commentary here, as I believe I've said everything that needs to be said.  The rest of Gerie's post is a combination of exhortations to fight (displaying assumptions about what I have and haven't done and why I changed my point of view), making faulty analogies between other (alleged) sins that fail for reasons I can't be bothered to go into right now (hey, I'm allowed to get tired, and I've been working on this post for over two hours now), and threatening me with hell if I don't.  That last makes her closing comment about hoping that she'll meet me some day (but making no real effort to enter into real dialogue or relationship with me at the present) all the more ludicrous.

Notes:
[1]  If you click my linked name next to the note on FC's blog, it takes you to my main site.  On that page is a link to send me an email address.  Apparently, clicking through two links to find my email address is too much effort for Gerie.

[2]  I suspect she'd claim that God let her feel my pain, as I get the impression that Gerie is a Pentecostal/charismatic Christian as well.  However, as I'll demonstrate as I continue through her post, she's either wrong or God sent her a "distorted picture."

[3]  I cannot say whether this is universal or even common, but personally, I was almost more disturbed by my lack of attraction to girls as I was the presence of feelings for boys.  I vividly remember laying in bed realizing that the thought of kissing a particular girl (one I had convinced myself I had feelings for) left me feeling cold and uncomfortable, and wondering, "What the hell is wrong with me????"

[4] And now we're back to one of my points in Monday's post.

[5]  What's really messed up is that I was more disturbed that the sexual activity (non-penetrative, by the way) in the dream was with another man rather than the fact that it was non-consensual on my part.

[6]  Granted, I have occasionally wondered what it would be like to be a woman.  However, that is not the same as thinking that I am a woman or want to be one.

[7]  Though I grant you that my understanding of what it means to be a man is far more fluid and far less riddled with stereotypes than Gerie's.

On Wednesday, I tackled how morality can be influenced both by the advice of deities and the individual's application of reasoning and consideration.  Today, I'd like to consider how society fits into the development of one's morals - in this case, my own.

Understanding how society influences morality is primarily understanding the very nature of morality as a matter of relationships.  To put it simply, morality comes into play when my actions affect my relationships to friends, family, my gods, the world in general, and even myself.  If my actions do not affect anyone,[1] then there is no question about morality.

The importance of morality rests on the importance of those relationships.  To put it simply, people need relationships to survive, both individually and collectively.  The Randian notion that a person can be completely self reliant is a quaint fantasy with no basis in reality, as mmy beautifully demonstrated not so long ago.  We all need the support and help of other people from time to time.

At it's heart, I think morality is a way of developing and strengthening relationships with mutual trust and respect, relationships that ensure that when we - both collectively and individually - need aid and support, we are certain to have some place to turn.  This support might be extreme, such as the case mmy describes in the blog post linked in the previous paragraph.  However, it may just be the knowledge of knowing that other people "have your back," knowing that you don't have to spend all your time and energy protecting yourself and what you value.  This social support enables you to take risks, seek new adventures which may lead to new benefits and gains, both for yourself and those around you.

As a devotee of a Norse goddess, I am deeply inspired by the Icelandic sagas, whose heroes often find themselves doing a careful balancing act between the deep-felt call to being a rugged individual of great accomplishment and meeting their obligations to their families and the greater society they find themselves in.  I personally consider learning to find this balance the greatest endeavor and purpose of morality.  For me, it has led to a finely nuanced and carefully considered framework on which to determine what my best and most moral next action in a given situation will be.

Notes:
[1]  Admittedly, if any such actions exist, they are truly few in number.