Discriminated for being different
Posted by: Lorena on: November 24, 2009
- In: atheism| gays
- 13 Comments
Are you guys familiar with Adam Lambert, the guy who ended up second on American Idol, when many expected him to win?
He has been crying discrimination for a long time, because he’s gay. Maybe, who am I to say? I’ve never been gay. He made the news recently for a said outrageous performance, and now the major networks have cancelled his appearances because of it.
While singing his new song “For Your Entertainment” at the awards program, Lambert kissed a male keyboardist, fondled a dancer and had another dancer briefly stuff his face in Lambert’s crotch. It prompted many complaints to ABC.
I have the funny feeling that he isn’t being discriminated for being gay but for being different. I don’t know him enough to tell, so perhaps you guys can help me.
I’ve noticed, recently, that although pure racism and anti-gayism are still a problem, being different is the bigger issue. And I ignore when we, humans, will evolve enough to see something or someone that revolts us, keeping a straight face and accepting the individual’s virtues overlooking his or her faults.
I could be totally off base here, so please, disagree if you will. But it seems to me that if I were to visit, say, Northern Europe and practiced my very Latin American idiosyncrasies—in their pure, unadulterated form—most locals would surely dislike me. If I want to get along with them, I would have to somehow adjust my behaviour to their societal rules, to do what they think is good. I doubt it that going around cheek-kissing them and hugging them, like we do in Latin America, would go over well.
In my experience, the foreigners that better adjust to the workplace—at least here in Canada—are those who are able to either be quiet and subdued, so as to hide their national manners, or those who learn the ways of the locals as in handshake timing, polite manners, and everything else that characterizes the local culture.
In the same way, if a Chinese went to work in my Central American country, he or she would piss everybody off by being uneasy when others try to casually touch him or her during a conversation, like we do, or when he or she is kissed goodbye (men don’t kiss men, BTW).
It seems to me that we, as a society at large, haven’t learned to accept those who are different. Skin colour has ceased to be the main issue—in my opinion—but we still want others to behave in ways we are used to. And I, frankly, don’t see that changing anytime soon.
Now, let’s talk about atheists. Can we get more unorthodox than that? Regular folks aren’t used to seeing unbelievers. You can say anything: you drink, you smoke pot, you have a lover, whatever, but …. Not believing in God? Please. Now you’ve touched every nerve in that person’s body.
We really have a long way to go, I think, as a race, before we can accept atheists as people worthy of walking the face of the earth. Before that happens, we need to convince the masses that those who are different aren’t necessarily evil and that disliking something or someone does not give us the right to label them evil or to hurt them.
As ex-Christians or atheists or non-believers, we sometimes argue about the best way to portrait ourselves in the public eye. Some say that street signs are too strong and insulting. Others say that bus campaigns are too wimpy. Yet others would like us to stand up on street corners and scream to the world that we don’t believe.
I say it doesn’t matter. Anything we do is bound to open some currently closed minds, if just a little. The idea is to help them get used to having us around, with our ideas and all, so that one day we will stop being so different. That’s the goal of branding and the point of the famous cliché, “There is no such thing as bad PR,” to be on their faces until they’re so used to having us around that their automatic reflexes won’t reject us anymore.
Since so far most humans haven’t been trained to accept the new and the different without suspicion, we still have to go through the pain of educating them before they can ever accept us. The other option is to do as they do, but for free thinkers like us, that option is unacceptable.
As for Michael Lambert, I am sorry I missed the kissing and the fondling. It would have been interesting to find out how I felt. I couldn’t find a YouTube. Is there one?
The Quran is definitely worse than the New Testament
Posted by: Lorena on: November 20, 2009
And they say: “None shall enter paradise unless he be a Jew or a Christian.” Those are their (vain) desires. Say: “Produce your proof if ye are truthful.”
Nay whoever submits his whole self to Allah and is a doer of good he will get his reward with his Lord; on such shall be no fear nor shall they grieve Quran. 2:111-112
And doing good is slaying pagans, right?
Fight and slay the pagans (or infidels or unbelievers) wherever you find them? Surah 9:5
Uzza, at her blog Uzza’s Quran Notes, has been reading the Quran and writing her thoughts on it for a long time.
When I read the portions of the Quran she posts, I see nothing inspiring in the writing. In fact, it reads like the work of a charlatan.
008.012 Remember thy Lord inspired the angels (with the message): “I am with you: give firmness to the Believers: I will instill terror into the hearts of the Unbelievers: smite ye above their necks and smite all their finger-tips off them.”
It makes me think that, as bad as Mohammad’s style was, perhaps his religion filled a historical want. It would be interesting to explore what the psychological needs of people of the area were at the time.
What could make anyone follow a so-called prophet that directly instructs followers to physically fight others for not believing?
At least in Christianity, the battle is against so-called spiritual powers (aka as nobody).
The Old Testament does show a blood-shedding God who himself kills and orders others to murder as well. But both religions have the OT as part of their belief system, so in the final balance, to me Islam is worse.
What do you think?
Magical Thinking
Posted by: Lorena on: November 14, 2009
According to Wikipedia, magical thinking is faith that mental powers can change the physical world.
What I want to discuss is slightly different, but I lack a better expression for it, so for the purposes of this post, I will redefine it. Magical thinking, to me, is the idea that an instant, permanent solution can be found for an ongoing problem.
My mom always thought that if I rubbed charcoal mixed with lard over my eyebrows for a few days, I would, forever and ever, have full, beautiful arches decorating my eyes. She was sure of it. She also believed that putting drops of a certain fruit’s juice in my nose would cure my chronic sinusitis.
I call my mother’s thinking style magical, because the so-called solution is supposed to instantly, permanently, and miraculously alter a situation which previously nothing else could change. The results are as wondrous as if a fairy had waved her magic wand.
Not surprisingly, I inherited my mother’s thinking style, though I like to believe my ideas were more sophisticated. In every area of life, I’ve been known for tirelessly seeking quick, magical solutions for weight loss, psychological issues, health troubles, etc.
If it weren’t for the stinginess that leads me to hang on to money for as long as possible, I would’ve fallen for lots of TV infomercials that said I needed not tire myself chopping veggies, waiting for foods to bake at regular speeds, or breaking my back cleaning carpet stains.
I did fall for psychological fads, though. There is a technique out there called EMDR. It’s about remembering the past and processing memories. If you do that, you’re supposed to live happily ever after. Been there. Done that. Didn’t work. (It may help folks struggling with only one trauma, though.)
I also tried 12-step programs. I’m sure they work for staying sober, and I’m thankful for them, but when it comes to psychological issues, I see magical thinking. They tell you, for instance, that if you go around asking for forgiveness of everyone you’ve hurt, you’ll feel good. And they provide heartfelt stories to encourage you. Every example includes a tearful, happy ending that involves hugs, forgiveness, and restitution–as in a movie finale.
But it ain’t so in real life. When you try to apologize, half the offended can’t even remember what happened, others still hate you after the apology, and yet others take the appeal coldly, say they forgive you, but show you the door at the first opportunity.
I can’t speak for others, but almost every time I tried it, I ended up more wounded than before and was left feeling like an idiot.
Obviously, the biggest panacea I fell for and that cost me the most money, energy, tears, and pain was Christianity. You pray and you’re forgiven instantly. You do the Lord’s work, and he does yours. You give him your life, and he makes you a new creature. You give God money, and he gives you more. One prayer—one lousy prayer—gives you eternal life.
No, life isn’t that simple. Nothing magical ever happens. Most results require work. There is no magic pill for getting more money, or losing weight, or getting rid of psychological issues, or receiving divine healing. The sooner we realize that life is what it is, that getting what we want and need requires hard work and dedication, and that some problems are just unsolvable, the sooner we will start living.
Going around under the illusion that our problems will be magically removed by a god or by the latest wrinkle removing lotion can be depressing. We keep searching and never finding. We need, instead, to use our energy for doing what’s possible and stop hoping for the impossible. That some benefactor will show up in our lives to take charge so we can rest and be happy, for instance, is impossible.
In fact, the one self-defeating belief I took from Christianity that most destroyed me was thinking that God was running my life. I didn’t have to do anything. He was in charge.
No, he wasn’t. No one was. I was like an unanchored small boat wondering the ocean, often being spanked by waves, flooded, and sank. No one was there to stir the boat to safety. No wonder it is now in ruins and may never be able to go out sailing again.
Of course, my magical thinking days are over. I no longer look for the one self-help book to unmistakably get rid of unwanted anger, or the guru that will teach me how to become a millionaire, or the beautician that will give me the makeover to be gorgeous ever after.
I know now that most goals are accomplished slowly, at our own pace, and by doing lots of homework. It may seem that I’m being negative, but I’m just being realistic. More than anything, though, I’m in the process of moving to a place of acceptance. I may always be overweight. The sinus infection may always be there. Emotional problems will always have to be struggled with.
And that’s OK. It’s called life. That’s what living people do. They labor for what they want and work with the hand they’re dealt. Waiting for big daddy to come from the sky to give us what we need is as naïve as believing in genies or trying to open doors by saying, “Open sesame.”
Winning the lottery out of sheer good luck wouldn’t hurt me, though. But I would have to start buying tickets first.
Demons Fear the Name of Jesus?
Posted by: Lorena on: November 9, 2009
In the mid-1990’s, speaking of exorcism and demons became fashionable even at the mainstream, non-Pentecostal church I attended. Neil Anderson’s Freedom in Christ ministries introduced the concept, and that opened the door for some curious believers, like me, to read up on the topic from other sources, like books written by Pentecostal pastors who saw demons everywhere.
A common theme was that mentioning the name of Christ to a demon-possessed person would deeply trouble the demon. If I remember correctly, it was said that calling the name of Jesus would cause demons to leave, if they were just sitting in our midst. If the person was possessed, though, the demon would hurt the person who would start screaming. Reading the scriptures in the presence of demons would cause them to go haywire. Exorcists would continually read the Bible during a ceremony, to cause the invaders to eventually leave the person, out of sheer tiredness because they couldn’t stand the Word of God.
I believed all that for a while, for a long time, actually. I was sure that mentioning the name of Jesus would shield me from any demonic attack. In fact, in the end, it was a fear of Satan and demons that kept me a Christian. Even when I didn’t go to church anymore, and instead went to a pagan church (during the first year of this blog), I still thought that dark forces existed out there.
But, how did I come to disbelieve that stuff?
As a Christian, obviously, I thought atheists were demon possessed. How else could anybody deny the existence of God? As I’ve stated before, I left the faith out of pure irritation with contradictions and narrow thinking, not because I’d become an atheist.
Once I stopped going to church, though, and I felt free to read ex-Christian blogs, I realized that atheists mentioned Jesus all the time, quoted the Bible, and some still studied it. Huh?
It became abundantly clear to me that the name of Jesus and the Bible held no magic powers, that atheists weren’t demon possessed, and that all that stuff I believed about demons was pure bullshit.
Nowadays, it doesn’t surprise me when believers come to our blogs and type large parts of scripture, even when they know we don’t believe in the Bible. They have been deluded to believe that the book will defeat the demons they think we have.
The Bible has power, alright, the power to de-convert a person who reads it with an open, inquiring mind. It can even de-convert a person like me, who had the critical thinking veiled by fear and low self-esteem. For me, it was like when a person is shopping at the mall and feels like something is wrong but ignores what, just to realize later that the car keys were left in the ignition.
I definitely know now what was causing the gnawing feeling of discomfort I carried for years. But I was tortured by it for so long that I am now allergic to all-things Christian.
Some believe that there are good things about Christianity that can be kept or celebrated. I have a hard time with that. I feel that I was lied to too much and find it difficult to keep any ties to a religion where almost everything I learned was a lie.
Misquoting Jesus
Posted by: Lorena on: November 4, 2009
I found Misquoting Jesus, by Bart Ehrman, quite informative. It was enlightening to know how the original writings were twisted around to nicely fit a scribe’s doctrinal leanings, and how the twisted text was copied again and again by other scribes.
Also useful was to learn of a particular set of verses which are central to the Christian faith today, but which origin is difficult to date, and it is even more difficult to be sure that they were penned by the original writers.
My favourite part was the chronology of manuscript findings, and how they were put together to create an official version of the New Testament. It is easy to see, by looking at their methods, how the NT we know today is made of bits and pieces of this and that manuscript of unknown origin.
I also learned other facts. For example, in the Greek manuscripts, there are no blanks to break down words. The break down was done via educated guesses of what the sentence possible meant. Errors could have been made while guessing.
All this is important if one considers how many denominations exist based on interpretations of single words, sentences, or verses, which is ridiculous, considering the impossibility of knowing what the original authors actually wrote. Like professor Herman says, we don’t have the originals. We don’t even have copies of copies of the originals. What we have is second and third century manuscripts that are the result of countless unreliable copying by scribes that were anything but highly skilled. In fact, some scribes didn’t even know how to read. They were basically drawing characters, ignoring what they were transcribing and, understandably, making many mistakes.
On the downside, the book can be quite repetitive, since topics heavily overlap, and the writer needs to constantly remind you of other factors, already discussed, that also make sense on other contexts.
Repetitions and all, however, the book is worth reading. I wish I’d read it when I was torn between having a difficult time believing and continuing to practice the religion I so didn’t want to leave.
The book left me hungry for more, but not more textual criticism. Now I want to read about the historical Jesus. For instance, the gospels say that Jesus walked on water, I don’t believe he did. Where did they get the idea? What did the historical Jesus really do or didn’t? Was there a historical Jesus at all?
I’ve been told there is a M. Shermer video I need to watch, but I like books better. Suggestions are welcome.
As it happens via a link from a friend from Atheist Nexus, Rosemary, I found a free e-book: The First Coming: How the Kingdom of God Became Christianity by Thomas Sheehan, of Standford University, that can be found here. I shall comment on the book when I finish reading.
For those interested in podcasts, Rosemary did recommend a webpage with interviews featuring professor Sheenan that can be found here.
A Life of Losses
Posted by: Lorena on: October 29, 2009
I lost my father when I was six. Then my mother was able to slowly improve us financially, and moved us to a better neighbourhood and from public to private school, a cheaper one. When things got better, we were moved to a more expensive one. Changing schools meant leaving friends behind and starting all over again.
I didn’t keep in touch with my classmates, since private school meant travelling miles away from home. The kids came from all corners of the city. They weren’t my neighbours. We didn’t walk to school together—not even to the bus stop as we were taken there by car. Even for group study our parents had to drive us to each other’s houses far away. Due to the distance, it was difficult to stay in touch.
At some point during my teenage years, I became involved in track & field, requiring me to train at the stadium everyday. The athletes became my family. But then the civil war got worse, and many dear friends, who unbeknownst to me were guerrillas, went away to fight, others were found murdered, others just disappeared, and others left the country before the armed forces captured them. Mother, understandably, put and end to my athletic days.
Then I started university, where I made really good friends. And around that time I became a born-again believer and met some wonderful people in church. The workplace was another source of acquaintances. But shortly after graduation, several of my university profs were murdered and the civil war intensified. I was, then, persuaded to leave my country, with two pieces of luggage. Everything that was dear to me stayed behind: family, friends, food, places, culture, language, beloved books, photos, and more.
Starting all over in Canada was excruciatingly painful. But I did alright after a while. Through the years, though, I was to endure a crushing series of losses that left me wounded for real. It felt a lot worse that losing my 4th grade BFF.
But I “had” God through all my losses, or the illusion of him, anyway. Sunday after Sunday I received a motivational speech that told me that whatever happened in this life wasn’t important at all. The next life in heaven was what mattered, as did the concept that God was walking with me through the dark tunnels of life.
But then I lost my religion, which included God, Jesus, my favourite book, and many acquaintances. My long time depression has worsened since, and lately, I’ve been wondering why I can’t seem to shake off this deep sadness. Christians would have me believe that I owe the honour to having left Jesus, who supposedly was my reason to live.
I, however, have other theories.
One theory is the lack of proper mourning for my multiple losses. Other than when my dad died, I only remember crying twice over such issues. Once, when one of our employees, who was almost family, was shot dead during a war crossfire. The other time was when my profs were assassinated on campus, and I saw them on TV, shot to death, lying on the ground riddled with bloody bullet wounds. Other distressing episodes didn’t manage to get even a tear out of me.
But after leaving my “drug” of choice, namely the Christian religion, I had nothing to assist me with the pain. The sadness showed itself clearly, letting me know that it was there all along, and that I needed to deal with it.
It is freaking horrible never to have acknowledged my lifetime losses and then to notice them, all of a sudden at once. The minute I took the God blindfold away, I saw the truth, and I’m finding it difficult to handle the pain. I feel like joining the elderly lady from the commercial in saying, “I have fallen, and I can’t get up.”
Another theory is that, since leaving the faith, I’ve developed little tolerance for bullshit. So I’ve voluntarily left many relationships and have made little effort to keep up with others. If I can do without God, whom I thought was everything to me, I can live without anybody, it seems, sadly so.
The truth is that for too many years, in the name of Jesus, I put up with a lot of crap, and I’m tired of disagreeing with the world. I’m burned out. I have no stomach for hypocrisy, gossip, competitiveness, shallowness, pity, co-dependency, racism, and so many other behaviours that I endured as a Christian, thinking that I had no choice. But I have a choice now, and at the first sight of unpleasantness, I walk away.
Yet another theory is that I am chronically depressed. I’ve been for years, many years, perhaps ever since my dad died, or maybe since I spent months alone in the hospital as a baby. Who knows? I know that there is a remarkable lack of smiles on my childhood photos.
The motivational speaking aspect of the Christian preaching was probably the wheels that kept me moving: the deep belief that God was doing things with me and for me. That must be why I couldn’t get enough of it: Sunday morning and evening services, weekly Bible study, two or three radio shows a day, a couple of TV evangelists on the weekend, retreats, Christian books, etc—all that on top of daily Bible reading and prayer.
I needed to hear, from an outside source, that I was OK. I needed the aggrandizing effect of thinking that a god who speaks through burning bushes was with me.
Is it any wonder that sometimes I wish I could believe?
So, here I sit today, wishing there were an organization for the depressed where I could go to get cheered up. But even if such places existed, motivational speakers annoy me. Their BS is very similar to the Christian BS, and the speakers have personalities that resemble those of some pastors I use to dislike: know-it-all and egotistic.
I’m thoroughly convinced that there is no help for me out there. I think all the losses killed me a little, and I have to accept that dead part of me that I seem to be unable to bring back to life. Perhaps, just perhaps, it is impossible to come back from these many losses, God included, and I must accept that I’ll be sad for the rest of my life.
In trying to find a new group of like-minded people, I’ve considered the Unitarians, but they’re too upbeat and optimistic for me. Have you ever been sad or pissed off and met an upbeat friend down the street? Your energy level is so low, and here they come so cheerful, and smiley, and thankful for even the rainy day. I don’t know why I dislike it so much. Perhaps they truly make me feel the sadness, when my level of energy can’t match theirs.
Going back to the Unitarians, they may be atheists or agnostics, but their optimism and blind faith in people and organizations (including religions) contrast hugely with my cynicism. It’s like going to church all over again, with the greeter at the door shaking hands with a fake smile, and everybody saying praise Jesus. Can’t stand it.
Sure, I was feeling particularly depressed when I wrote the first draft of this post, since when I thought I was on my feet again, and I was going to go out there to find myself a job, I got sick, and I have been ill for the last six weeks or so, though I’m feeling much better now. But it does seem that when I get over one problem another one pops up, making me think that I may never feel well again.
I am also food deprived. I can’t eat pork, beef, sugar, dairy, bread, or anything made with flour of any kind. I get tired of fish or tofu and salad. Try feeling happy when you can’t even have your comfort foods.
Yes, this is the real me, and I am not ashamed to confess it. With any luck there aren’t any other ex-Christians out there with my “clinical” issues. But if there are any, I’d like to let them know that they’re not alone.
Also, my troubles aren’t a testimony of what the lack of a personal God can do to a person. They’re a testimony of what believing in God can do to a person, so I’d like to warn the religious that pretending to be happy in Jesus doesn’t add up to true happiness. There is a strong possibility that you’re just burying down your pain and thus hurting yourself further. Deal with your problems. Do not mask them in the name of God.
Deliver Us from Evil
Posted by: Lorena on: October 23, 2009
Even though I am from Latin America, where most folks are Catholic, I’ve never been one. I, therefore, know little of the church’s doctrines, hierarchies, and bureaucracy.
During the last few days, however, I had a stint into the Roman Catholic world. On the weekend I read in Losing my Religion enough information on sexual abuse by priests to make me sick to my stomach. Just two nights later, on Tuesday, I watched the documentary Deliver Us from Evil, on TV. The latter made me weep.
The documentary featured Father O’Grady, an Irish now former priest who for a while had free reign over the children of several parishes in California. No one knows how many children he raped, but it was tens of them, if not hundreds, as some estimate.
Father O’Grady and a few of his victims and their parents were interviewed. Church officials were shown from courtroom takes, as they declined an opportunity to have their say in the documentary.
It’s one thing to read articles on the victimization of children. Another one is to see them cry, hear their parents wail in despair, and see the Roman Catholic authorities say that the abuse wasn’t grounds for dismissing the pedophile priests.
Often, one hears disconnected pieces of information around, and the brain doesn’t link the pieces. It takes a documentary to glue the puzzle together and help us see the bigger picture behind the news we hear.
One piece of information I’d never connected to the sexual abuse by priests is that the current Pope was the person in charge of overseeing misconduct in the church during the 70’s and 80’s: the very man under whose nose hundreds upon hundreds of children were raped and sodomized. It is little wonder that the North American Bishops and Monsignors that personally approved of the pedophiles being reassigned to unsuspecting parishes are now in high positions in the Vatican.
I also learned that many blame the scandals on homosexual priests (what a shock), but that in reality, most of the abusive “holy” ones are heterosexual pedophiles who found the profession appealing because of the proximity to children that it affords.
I knew already that the church as an institution had given the victims the finger. But it was watching the tears and the pain when I realized how callous and inhuman they had been. The very institution that was supposed to protect them and give them hope and heal their wounds hurt them more than anyone ever will in their entire lifetimes.
I had seen newspaper photos of some perv priests, but seeing O’Grady, with a grin, walking the streets of Dublin, peacefully and free, was sickening. His lack of remorse was remarkable. His unapologetic demeanor almost says that if he could, he would offend again. A demeanor his church superiors had seen and ignored, carelessly sending him to another parish where they knew he would, again, put his filthy hands on more innocent kids.
The Roman Catholic Church, it will appear, isn’t in business for the souls’ sake. It is in business for itself—and a business it is.
The rigid power structure that the church has maintained throughout the centuries is alive and well. And it doesn’t seem any different from the institution that carried out the Spanish Inquisition and other disgraces.
The same callousness and lack of conscious shown then was shown to the sexual abuse victims. The church’s reputation and survival had the utmost priority. The devotees had no priority. Their wounds deserved no pity.
OneSmallStep pointed out the Christian contradiction of this injustice on a comment she left under the Losing My Religion post.
This is the part that hit me hardest in the entire book — the church is supposed to follow one who was concerned about the “least of these,” and yet when the “least” were victimized, the church favored power over the victims.
And the other scary part was how the regular Catholics wouldn’t believe the victims, either, but rather flocked — no pun intended — towards those who had raped children. It’s like they couldn’t conceive of a priest ever doing something like that. Asking them to believe that was like asking them to believe that Jesus raped children.
No, the Roman Catholic church isn’t out there to support, help, or sustain anyone. It is out there to preserve itself, via clerics whose only goal is career advancement. Yes, ambition is what moves those “men of God” to forget all about the sheep and concentrate on following orders, acting just like the Nazi officials who claimed their only fault had been to follow instructions from higher up.
The God of Catholics isn’t even the biblical one. The God of Catholics is the church, and what a horrible, inhuman, pitiless God it is, once again proving that there is no God.
There is no God. If there were one, wouldn’t massive sexualization of children by men who bear his name be a good time to appear and show everybody that he isn’t part of all that evil?
If there were a God, wouldn’t the Holy Spirit have let the parents see the danger? But no, the devoted Catholic parents only saw the smooth talking men with saintly looking faces. If there were a God, the victims would have found mercy somewhere. But, reportedly, they only found hatred, from the church and from other devotees, who instead of embracing them called them liars and blamed them for the demise of the “holy” fathers they were denouncing.
There definitely is no God. And my trust in people is also severely damaged at this particular moment, seeing how based on appearances, dangerous, lying individuals are so easily embraced and believed no matter what they do.
Thank goodness I was never a Catholic. Obviously, the church’s God would’ve never delivered me from evil.
Book Review: Losing My Religion
Posted by: Lorena on: October 20, 2009
Losing My Religion: How I Lost My Faith Reporting on Religion in America-and Found Unexpected Peace
The book is award-winning journalist William Lobdell’s memoir of his journey into and out of faith. During an eight-year period as a religion reporter for The Los Angeles Times, Lobdell researched and reported on the best and the worst of religion, coming across incredibly inspirational tales as well as terribly disappointing scandals.
Before becoming a religion reporter, however, the writer had become a Christian. The first few chapters are devoted to his conversion. He tells of sermons, retreats, friends, and life situations that finally led him to become a believer.
After a few years as a born-again Christian, Lobdell started reporting on religion, first of its greatness, and at the end of its ugliness. A large part of the book is dedicated to such stories. For instance, he tells of a financial hiccup in Hank Hanegraaff’s career as the “impeccable” leader of the Christian Research Institute.
The book is easy to read because it is a story, and the writer keeps you hooked with a touch of mystery, up until the last page. The mystery involves both, the discoveries he was reporting on and his own struggles with the disturbing facts.
The book’s style is that of a newspaper or magazine article. As in such pieces, the writer went to great lengths to let the reader reach conclusions as unaided as possible. Lobdell, like good journalists do, always allows the “bad guys” their side of the story. He even includes a number of tough questions he asked of a respected Christian leader, and he presents the answers verbatim.
In my view, the book’s strongest point is the carefully told, well-documented stories of both religion’s high and low points. Anybody who reads the memoir in years to come will know the moral standing of religion in the United States in the early 21st century. The gist is all there; particularly, regarding the Roman Catholic Church as it dealt with multi-million dollar lawsuits and a rapidly deteriorating public image. But, evangelicals, Mormons, and Jews are also discussed.
The book can help a person who is struggling with faith issues, by providing strong evidence that religious leaders are more fallible than their followers are willing to admit. Ex-Christians can be helped, too, with a large repository of information to go to when we are confronted with reasons for having left the faith. Lifetime atheists should read it to develop some compassion for the struggles of a newly de-converted ex-Christian who doesn’t know enough yet to come out and grab the atheist label. Christians should study it to learn more about the reasons why we left the faith, and to learn more about their own religion.
Do not expect to read this book and be floored by strong arguments against the Christian faith. That isn’t the writer’s style. He will give you the facts, and he will tell you, sometimes, how he feels about the facts but, more often than not, he will let you make up your own mind.
Freedom From Religion Convention is Full
Posted by: Lorena on: October 18, 2009
I feel a little better, but I’m still sick. The fever has finally left me, though, and that’s great news.
During the long hours sitting by the humidifier, I finished reading William Lobdell’s Losing my Religion. I enjoyed it very much, and I am in the process of writing my review (the early draft is all in my mind at this point).
I was trying to figure out what Lobdell is doing with his time now that he no longer works for the LA Times, and I found his speaking schedule on his blog. He will be in Seattle in a couple of weeks. Great! I was going to go. The three-hour drive to Seattle wasn’t going to kill me.
But it wasn’t to be. He’s speaking at the Freedom from Religion Foundation’s convention, and it’s full. I was sad at first, but then I realized it was good news. The movement is growing and that makes me happy. With any luck, I’ll get to hear William Lobdell some other time. If anybody is fortunate enough to be going, please report back. We would love to hear all about it.
Forgiving and loving until you can’t help hating
Posted by: Lorena on: October 13, 2009
The divorce battles between American reality TV stars Jon and Kate Gosseling have reminded me of the role played by the concept of Christian forgiveness in ruining many of my relationships.
These unfortunate quarrels between the celebrity couple are only different from those of other divorcing partners in the public nature of their troubles. Many couples also wait until they truly hate each other before deciding to break apart.
To a point, I justify the mistake of waiting too long to divorce, when children are involved. Giving up the marriage often means giving up the children, and good parents want to see their children grow up.
When it comes to interpersonal relationships, though, we often have choices which are relinquished in Christian circles in the name of forgiveness.
We all know, however, that–according to the Bible–God doesn’t forgive everything. He demands blood to forgive. And even when the blood has, supposedly, been shed, there is the unpardonable sin that many believers fear. I know I did.
But when it comes to us, humans, we are told we need to forgive everything. We are insulted? Give the other cheek. We are robbed? Jesus died for the thief. Our parents violate us? God said to honour our parents. We are slandered? Jesus was slandered, too. We are lied to? The Bible says that revenge belongs to God.
If we are victimized, Christian tradition and the Bible give us no space to experience our feelings, our anger, or our disgust. We are expected to put our heads on the guillotine and smile and say “Praise Jesus” while at it.
We all know that most churchgoers fail to follow the high standards of the faith in many areas, particularly forgiveness. Such failure is more evident when it comes to wrongdoings by opposing groups. For example if someone in our church makes a mistake, we forgive it, but if a Jehovah’s Witness, or a Muslim, or a Catholic do the same deed, there is no forgiveness, only finger pointing and outrage.
Even when it comes to letting go of small-time relationship level offenses, though, not every Christian really tries to follow the church’s guidance. The same 10% of believers who tithe, wipe pews, and clean the church kitchen is also the small group that tries very hard to forgive offenses big and small.
I was one of them. At the beginning of a relationship, I managed to let go of just about any justifiable resentment created by abuses and put-downs that I shouldn’t have taken, and nobody else should either.
But the hurt that I ignored in the name of forgiveness was real and kept accumulating, until one day I realized that I pretty much hated the so-called friend. At that point, there was no return. Talking things out and trying to patch things up was impossible, when there was so much emotion involved. And it was all done in Jesus name.
Interestingly enough, it was a Christian book that helped me see that I needed some sort of barrier to protect me, to stop others from running all over me. The book’s name is Boundaries, and most believers aren’t interested in reading it. They’re convinced that the Bible and Jesus fulfill all needs and answer all questions.
But it was difficult for me, as a Christian, to develop the needed boundaries while living in a Christian culture that Sunday after Sunday demanded of me to take crap from others in the name of Jesus. The guilt was too large to allow me enough space to become assertive and self-confident, given that I could be such a doormat.
When I look back, there were many good people that could have remained in my life as acquaintances, if I had exercised wisdom and decided to put some distance between us before things became really bad. Some individuals were decent folks I was incompatible or not meant to be close friends with. Most people only have a couple of intimate pals, anyway. Insisting on being close with and loving everybody—in the name of Jesus—is not only ridiculous, but also unhealthy and impractical.
Leave it to naïve women who drink too much Christian Kool-Aid, like I used to, to insist on loving and being loved by all.
Recent Contributions