Saturday, December 17, 2011
I'm not the most naive person out there
Okay, this post seriously tickled my funny bone. I often bemoan how ignorant I am having come from a very sheltered religious background, but I'm also research-minded and have of course, explored a lot since coming out and can actually comprehend what this is. Of course, I still am a bit boggled by its existence and the fact that people would actually use a device...but I KNOW WHAT IT IS! Okay, so maybe that's not particularly something to brag about, but hey, I'll take what I can get.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
I came out to my parents
I finally did it. I came out to my parents. It actually happened about three weeks ago, but I haven’t had a chance to update this blog until now.
I emailed them on a Saturday afternoon, simply saying there was something I wanted to discuss with them. They called me the next day to invite me over that evening. I was ridiculously nervous. I immediately contacted a few people and posted on Facebook. I had an overwhelming amount of support. Despite all that, I actually felt sick to my stomach as I drove to their house.
When I got there, I had to wait for my mom’s typical routine of going to the bathroom, making herself a cup of tea, and putting on chapstick before they finally settled down. When they did, my mom’s very first question was "Who is he?" because she guessed I was there to tell them I was seeing someone. Apparently they’d been trying to guess what I wanted to talk to them about before I got there.
After an awkward chuckle, I went into my speal about how I had been censoring many of the things I'd been telling them about my life and didn't want to do that anymore as I valued the openness I'd always had with them. And then I simply stated that the reason for this was that I was gay.
They didn't react much at all initially. They just kind of sat there looking at me. So I kept talking. I explained a bit of my journey, how this realization made so many things in my life make more sense, how much more comfortable I was feeling with myself, etc. And then they still didn't really react so I stopped and asked if they had anything to say.
My dad said he had guessed because the Holy Spirit told him (I have since found out that he might have seen some pictures of me in a tie on Facebook which clued him in). My mom had been clueless. Even when my dad suggested it prior to my coming over, to prepare her for the possibility, she thought it was ridiculous. My dad did most of the talking, in Pastor mode, assuring me that they would still love me and would still be a part of my life. He compared it to when my brother moved in with his girlfriend before they were married. My parents didn't approve of that but still interacted with both of them and maintained relationship.
My dad was pleased to find out that I hadn’t waited to tell them until I was so involved with someone that I absolutely had to. He felt it indicated a level of trust and was appreciative of that. He also agreed to read a book I lent him on 'Jesus, the Bible and Homosexuality' (He returned it a week ago without comment and my mom later indicated that he’d only skimmed it as he felt he had read most of the material before...sigh). His one somewhat disconcerting comment was that he didn’t want us to talk about this all the time. He wanted me to still just be me. I understand his point, but combine that with the fact that he hasn’t brought it up at all since, and it feels a little funny.
My mom asked me if my being gay was a secret and I explained that it wasn't for me but that I hadn't told anyone in their church community out of respect for them. They were very strong in their statement that if anyone had issues with them as Pastors who have a gay daughter, that was those people's problem. They’ve been burned by church folks before who judged Pastors and their families with different standards and weren’t going to fall into that trap again. That was kind of nice to hear and was probably the highlight for me. My mom actually went out with a friend a few days later and told her and that friend was supportive. I was really glad to hear that.
My mom was calm through most of it but did cry a bit at the end about how her dream bubble with me eventually marrying a tall handsome man had popped. She did ask me a bit about who I'd dated and the difference between the terms gay and lesbian...that kind of thing. My initial impression was that she would deal with it better than my dad. She has talked to me a bit since, asking a few more questions especially about dating, but she’s very awkward about it. And in our last conversation, she specifically brought up the fact that this is an area where we’ll have to agree to disagree – that they’ll never be comfortable with it. That’s a pretty strong statement for my mom to make as she doesn’t usually take as much of an opinionated stance on things as my dad. It hurt a bit to hear. They’ve also apparently bought several books on how to love your gay kid. Apparently these books are helping them think through questions like whether or not they’ll be comfortable with me showing affection to a girlfriend in their home. These books are, without a doubt, Christian authored, so I have no idea what they will walk away with from them.
I know it will take time for them to process the news and that we have many awkward moments to come. But, in general, I was pretty pleased with how things went. I had anticipated a bit more emotion – crying or anger. I’m sure there has been some when I haven’t been around, but they’ve been fairly calm and collected when actually interacting with me. I had anticipated having to sit through some arguments about why homosexuality is wrong and perhaps being asked to justify my ‘choice’, but there hasn’t been any of that. My dad did send me an out of the blue email saying he was praying for me and for God’s blessing on my life. He hasn’t done this in a very long time so its timing is suspect. That and ‘blessing’ is a kind of euphemism for God’s best for you, which is clearly not being gay. So it was a bit disturbing. But I know he loves me.
There is a certain amount of freedom now that I’m out. I don’t have to be as careful. I don’t have to clear away anything remotely related to this part of who I am whenever they come over. My sister-in-law and I don’t have to coordinate stories about certain events I go to. I don’t have to keep track of what I have and haven’t told them about various people in my life. But there’s still a level of artificiality. For example, they aren’t necessarily ready to hear that I’ve kissed a girl so my descriptions of my dates have been edited. I spent an evening playing pool with my dad last week and we spent the night talking about TV shows. It was kind of sad (and interesting to think about why media is so important in people’s lives and how that relates to dysfunctional families). But it’s still progress. And I’m very happy I did it.
I emailed them on a Saturday afternoon, simply saying there was something I wanted to discuss with them. They called me the next day to invite me over that evening. I was ridiculously nervous. I immediately contacted a few people and posted on Facebook. I had an overwhelming amount of support. Despite all that, I actually felt sick to my stomach as I drove to their house.
When I got there, I had to wait for my mom’s typical routine of going to the bathroom, making herself a cup of tea, and putting on chapstick before they finally settled down. When they did, my mom’s very first question was "Who is he?" because she guessed I was there to tell them I was seeing someone. Apparently they’d been trying to guess what I wanted to talk to them about before I got there.
After an awkward chuckle, I went into my speal about how I had been censoring many of the things I'd been telling them about my life and didn't want to do that anymore as I valued the openness I'd always had with them. And then I simply stated that the reason for this was that I was gay.
They didn't react much at all initially. They just kind of sat there looking at me. So I kept talking. I explained a bit of my journey, how this realization made so many things in my life make more sense, how much more comfortable I was feeling with myself, etc. And then they still didn't really react so I stopped and asked if they had anything to say.
My dad said he had guessed because the Holy Spirit told him (I have since found out that he might have seen some pictures of me in a tie on Facebook which clued him in). My mom had been clueless. Even when my dad suggested it prior to my coming over, to prepare her for the possibility, she thought it was ridiculous. My dad did most of the talking, in Pastor mode, assuring me that they would still love me and would still be a part of my life. He compared it to when my brother moved in with his girlfriend before they were married. My parents didn't approve of that but still interacted with both of them and maintained relationship.
My dad was pleased to find out that I hadn’t waited to tell them until I was so involved with someone that I absolutely had to. He felt it indicated a level of trust and was appreciative of that. He also agreed to read a book I lent him on 'Jesus, the Bible and Homosexuality' (He returned it a week ago without comment and my mom later indicated that he’d only skimmed it as he felt he had read most of the material before...sigh). His one somewhat disconcerting comment was that he didn’t want us to talk about this all the time. He wanted me to still just be me. I understand his point, but combine that with the fact that he hasn’t brought it up at all since, and it feels a little funny.
My mom asked me if my being gay was a secret and I explained that it wasn't for me but that I hadn't told anyone in their church community out of respect for them. They were very strong in their statement that if anyone had issues with them as Pastors who have a gay daughter, that was those people's problem. They’ve been burned by church folks before who judged Pastors and their families with different standards and weren’t going to fall into that trap again. That was kind of nice to hear and was probably the highlight for me. My mom actually went out with a friend a few days later and told her and that friend was supportive. I was really glad to hear that.
My mom was calm through most of it but did cry a bit at the end about how her dream bubble with me eventually marrying a tall handsome man had popped. She did ask me a bit about who I'd dated and the difference between the terms gay and lesbian...that kind of thing. My initial impression was that she would deal with it better than my dad. She has talked to me a bit since, asking a few more questions especially about dating, but she’s very awkward about it. And in our last conversation, she specifically brought up the fact that this is an area where we’ll have to agree to disagree – that they’ll never be comfortable with it. That’s a pretty strong statement for my mom to make as she doesn’t usually take as much of an opinionated stance on things as my dad. It hurt a bit to hear. They’ve also apparently bought several books on how to love your gay kid. Apparently these books are helping them think through questions like whether or not they’ll be comfortable with me showing affection to a girlfriend in their home. These books are, without a doubt, Christian authored, so I have no idea what they will walk away with from them.
I know it will take time for them to process the news and that we have many awkward moments to come. But, in general, I was pretty pleased with how things went. I had anticipated a bit more emotion – crying or anger. I’m sure there has been some when I haven’t been around, but they’ve been fairly calm and collected when actually interacting with me. I had anticipated having to sit through some arguments about why homosexuality is wrong and perhaps being asked to justify my ‘choice’, but there hasn’t been any of that. My dad did send me an out of the blue email saying he was praying for me and for God’s blessing on my life. He hasn’t done this in a very long time so its timing is suspect. That and ‘blessing’ is a kind of euphemism for God’s best for you, which is clearly not being gay. So it was a bit disturbing. But I know he loves me.
There is a certain amount of freedom now that I’m out. I don’t have to be as careful. I don’t have to clear away anything remotely related to this part of who I am whenever they come over. My sister-in-law and I don’t have to coordinate stories about certain events I go to. I don’t have to keep track of what I have and haven’t told them about various people in my life. But there’s still a level of artificiality. For example, they aren’t necessarily ready to hear that I’ve kissed a girl so my descriptions of my dates have been edited. I spent an evening playing pool with my dad last week and we spent the night talking about TV shows. It was kind of sad (and interesting to think about why media is so important in people’s lives and how that relates to dysfunctional families). But it’s still progress. And I’m very happy I did it.
Bathroom Dilemmas
So, it’s happened. I have joined the ranks of those who have a ‘you’re in the wrong bathroom’ story to share. I experienced a few such incidents as a teenager, but then I feminized myself and the problem went away. But now it’s back.
I had kind of mentally prepared myself for it happening. I’d read about the anxiety some more butch appearing folks experience when using a public washroom and intellectually realized that would probably happen to me as I took on a more masculine appearance. But the reality of it doesn’t actually hit you until it is happening.
The first incident was just over a week ago. I was heading down the stairs at a McDonald’s. A gentleman was following me. At the bottom, we split off, him towards the men’s washroom and me towards the women’s. He piped up, saying “Umm…wrong room.” This was immediately reiterated by a woman who was just exiting the ladies room. I assured them I was heading into the right place but I’m not sure they were convinced.
Then, just a couple days ago, I wash washing my hands in another public restroom when a woman entered. She immediately froze in her tracks upon seeing me, looking puzzled and asked “Am I in the right place?” After a brief moment she corrected herself and apologized.
I had somehow thought that even if this happened to me, I wouldn’t let it bother me. But that was a naïve assumption. I’ve actually found myself feeling anxious when entering a public restroom, hoping no one else is there. Even tonight, I could hear someone in the next stall finishing up and I rushed washing my hands so I could exit the room before they came out and saw me.
I don’t think there’s an easy solution. I sympathize with those who are disconcerted by my presence. Honestly, I would be too if I saw another person as masculine looking as myself in the washroom. I think I’m aware of the issue enough that I’d more quickly correct myself and I certainly wouldn’t say anything, but I’m culturally conditioned enough that I think there would be an initial startled reaction.
What puzzles me is why we care so much that someone of a different gender is in ‘our’ bathroom? In women’s washrooms, everybody goes into a separate stall to do their business so even if a guy walked in, they wouldn’t see anything anyways. Why should a woman care if a man sees her washing her hands? I suppose it might be different if a woman walked into a guy’s washroom where there are urinals, but I haven’t experienced that (I understand it can be an even bigger issue for transgender folks who aren’t sure which restroom to use). The way I figure it, if you see someone in a public restroom that you think doesn’t belong, the likelihood that they are deliberately being perverted is very small and if they’ve accidentally chosen the wrong room, pointing it out will only embarrass them. So why not just give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they are in the right place. I guess I vote for unisex washrooms with stalls for everybody. Besides, wouldn’t mixing the long women’s lines and short men’s lines together make everything more efficient?
I had kind of mentally prepared myself for it happening. I’d read about the anxiety some more butch appearing folks experience when using a public washroom and intellectually realized that would probably happen to me as I took on a more masculine appearance. But the reality of it doesn’t actually hit you until it is happening.
The first incident was just over a week ago. I was heading down the stairs at a McDonald’s. A gentleman was following me. At the bottom, we split off, him towards the men’s washroom and me towards the women’s. He piped up, saying “Umm…wrong room.” This was immediately reiterated by a woman who was just exiting the ladies room. I assured them I was heading into the right place but I’m not sure they were convinced.
Then, just a couple days ago, I wash washing my hands in another public restroom when a woman entered. She immediately froze in her tracks upon seeing me, looking puzzled and asked “Am I in the right place?” After a brief moment she corrected herself and apologized.
I had somehow thought that even if this happened to me, I wouldn’t let it bother me. But that was a naïve assumption. I’ve actually found myself feeling anxious when entering a public restroom, hoping no one else is there. Even tonight, I could hear someone in the next stall finishing up and I rushed washing my hands so I could exit the room before they came out and saw me.
I don’t think there’s an easy solution. I sympathize with those who are disconcerted by my presence. Honestly, I would be too if I saw another person as masculine looking as myself in the washroom. I think I’m aware of the issue enough that I’d more quickly correct myself and I certainly wouldn’t say anything, but I’m culturally conditioned enough that I think there would be an initial startled reaction.
What puzzles me is why we care so much that someone of a different gender is in ‘our’ bathroom? In women’s washrooms, everybody goes into a separate stall to do their business so even if a guy walked in, they wouldn’t see anything anyways. Why should a woman care if a man sees her washing her hands? I suppose it might be different if a woman walked into a guy’s washroom where there are urinals, but I haven’t experienced that (I understand it can be an even bigger issue for transgender folks who aren’t sure which restroom to use). The way I figure it, if you see someone in a public restroom that you think doesn’t belong, the likelihood that they are deliberately being perverted is very small and if they’ve accidentally chosen the wrong room, pointing it out will only embarrass them. So why not just give them the benefit of the doubt and assume they are in the right place. I guess I vote for unisex washrooms with stalls for everybody. Besides, wouldn’t mixing the long women’s lines and short men’s lines together make everything more efficient?
I feel spiffy wearing a tie
So I wore a tie tonight. Yup. I wanted to show respect by dressing up for the event I was attending, and right now, for me, dressing up means a tie. I’ve worn a tie before but only at home or at my brother’s house – not out in public. So this was kind of a big deal.
I took a shower. Spiked my freshly cut hair. Put on my Value Village starched collar white shirt. And tied my tie…and well, undid it and tied it again…and, umm, undid it and tied it again. It’s darn tricky to get those things just the right length.
But I succeeded. Took a look at myself in the mirror and felt pretty darn spiffy.
I’ve had a slew of people tell me, even just this week, that I seem much more comfortable with myself lately. Even my hairstylist says my demeanor has changed dramatically since she first met me and chopped off my long hair a little over four months ago. I think I’ve mentioned before that I sometimes fear people will think I’m caving to some sort of lesbian stereotype by styling my hair and dressing as I do, but comments about how well this look suits me help allay those fears. This is me…finally unburied. And for the first time in my life, I quite like me. As I said…I feel spiffy.
I took a shower. Spiked my freshly cut hair. Put on my Value Village starched collar white shirt. And tied my tie…and well, undid it and tied it again…and, umm, undid it and tied it again. It’s darn tricky to get those things just the right length.
But I succeeded. Took a look at myself in the mirror and felt pretty darn spiffy.
I’ve had a slew of people tell me, even just this week, that I seem much more comfortable with myself lately. Even my hairstylist says my demeanor has changed dramatically since she first met me and chopped off my long hair a little over four months ago. I think I’ve mentioned before that I sometimes fear people will think I’m caving to some sort of lesbian stereotype by styling my hair and dressing as I do, but comments about how well this look suits me help allay those fears. This is me…finally unburied. And for the first time in my life, I quite like me. As I said…I feel spiffy.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Coming out to my parents update
Nope. Hasn’t happened yet. Sigh.
I came really, really close two weeks ago. I was having dinner at my parents place and almost blurted it out. But then I realized that my dad was going away for a week and my mom would be left alone to process the news. And given my mom’s current state of health, I didn’t think that was a good idea. So I waited.
And then, I decided when my dad got home from his conference, I’d ask him for a time when we could talk. But as I was chatting with him on the phone, he shared how one of the workshops at this conference was given by a woman who works for Desert Stream Ministries and who taught on ‘wholeness’. That was his word and it triggered my memory for what this ministry does.
Yep. You guessed it. It’s all about helping people overcome homosexuality. The website couches its ministry in broader terms saying that its “particularly relevant to those struggling with homosexuality, sexual promiscuity, the effects of sexual abuse, codependency, self-hatred, or the inability to love others well.” But in essence, it believes these are all linked together. Brokenness in one of these other areas is what leads a person to succumb to the temptation of homosexuality and choose a gay lifestyle.
There are several things I’ve always found incongruous about these types of ministries. First, they claim that homosexuality arises because of woundedness. People are attracted to their same sex because of something that was missing or messed up in their relationship with one of their parents. The problem is that if that’s the case, far more than a steady 10% of the population should be gay. There’s a heck of a lot of people with mommy and daddy issues out there.
Second, a lot of their testimonies highlight people who were miserable being gay and who were leading very messed up lives of promiscuity and substance abuse. The implication is that the gay lifestyle is a very unhappy one that people want to escape from. But it’s not about being gay. There are heterosexuals who are miserable in the same ways. I also think the lack of acceptance and the guilt associated with being gay are a major impetus for people to hide their pain in these unhealthy ways. But if they believed they were okay as who they were, then they wouldn’t be in such a miserable spot in the first place. There are numerous very healthy, very happy gay men and woman who do not feel the need to be rescued or healed.
Third, if you read the stories of so-called recovered homosexuals, they are not in fact recovered. They have just become very good and living in denial and have set up amazingly intricate safeguards to prevent them from giving into what they think of as temptation. For example, the main article author on the Desert Stream site talks about how whenever he travels away from home, he has at least two or three people he has to call daily and strict rules about who he can room with. This is not normal. This is not healthy nor is it the way a person who has truly been transformed into a heterosexual would need to behave.
And so, I think this whole ‘healing the gay’ thing is bunch of hooey. I’m sure there are others who have articulated it better than me, complete with scientific evidence for the differences between gays and straights and the influence of biology, etc…but this is just a tiny rant for the purpose of showing why I have not yet come out to my parents. They (or at least my dad) believe this stuff. He believes that being gay is due to some sort of sexual and relational brokenness. So my telling him I am gay would not only mean for him that his daughter is deeply hurting in some way, but would also imply that he and my mom did something wrong in raising me that allowed me to be broken in such a way. And that means he’ll grieve for me and for his own sense of responsibility. Nothing could be further from the truth - Aargh. I’m still planning on coming out. It’s just this latest news about him attending this workshop derailed me for a bit. Gotta build up my reserves again. I’m thankful for the many people who have been encouraging me and supporting me as I prepare for this event and who will be there for me no matter what the outcome is.
I came really, really close two weeks ago. I was having dinner at my parents place and almost blurted it out. But then I realized that my dad was going away for a week and my mom would be left alone to process the news. And given my mom’s current state of health, I didn’t think that was a good idea. So I waited.
And then, I decided when my dad got home from his conference, I’d ask him for a time when we could talk. But as I was chatting with him on the phone, he shared how one of the workshops at this conference was given by a woman who works for Desert Stream Ministries and who taught on ‘wholeness’. That was his word and it triggered my memory for what this ministry does.
Yep. You guessed it. It’s all about helping people overcome homosexuality. The website couches its ministry in broader terms saying that its “particularly relevant to those struggling with homosexuality, sexual promiscuity, the effects of sexual abuse, codependency, self-hatred, or the inability to love others well.” But in essence, it believes these are all linked together. Brokenness in one of these other areas is what leads a person to succumb to the temptation of homosexuality and choose a gay lifestyle.
There are several things I’ve always found incongruous about these types of ministries. First, they claim that homosexuality arises because of woundedness. People are attracted to their same sex because of something that was missing or messed up in their relationship with one of their parents. The problem is that if that’s the case, far more than a steady 10% of the population should be gay. There’s a heck of a lot of people with mommy and daddy issues out there.
Second, a lot of their testimonies highlight people who were miserable being gay and who were leading very messed up lives of promiscuity and substance abuse. The implication is that the gay lifestyle is a very unhappy one that people want to escape from. But it’s not about being gay. There are heterosexuals who are miserable in the same ways. I also think the lack of acceptance and the guilt associated with being gay are a major impetus for people to hide their pain in these unhealthy ways. But if they believed they were okay as who they were, then they wouldn’t be in such a miserable spot in the first place. There are numerous very healthy, very happy gay men and woman who do not feel the need to be rescued or healed.
Third, if you read the stories of so-called recovered homosexuals, they are not in fact recovered. They have just become very good and living in denial and have set up amazingly intricate safeguards to prevent them from giving into what they think of as temptation. For example, the main article author on the Desert Stream site talks about how whenever he travels away from home, he has at least two or three people he has to call daily and strict rules about who he can room with. This is not normal. This is not healthy nor is it the way a person who has truly been transformed into a heterosexual would need to behave.
And so, I think this whole ‘healing the gay’ thing is bunch of hooey. I’m sure there are others who have articulated it better than me, complete with scientific evidence for the differences between gays and straights and the influence of biology, etc…but this is just a tiny rant for the purpose of showing why I have not yet come out to my parents. They (or at least my dad) believe this stuff. He believes that being gay is due to some sort of sexual and relational brokenness. So my telling him I am gay would not only mean for him that his daughter is deeply hurting in some way, but would also imply that he and my mom did something wrong in raising me that allowed me to be broken in such a way. And that means he’ll grieve for me and for his own sense of responsibility. Nothing could be further from the truth - Aargh. I’m still planning on coming out. It’s just this latest news about him attending this workshop derailed me for a bit. Gotta build up my reserves again. I’m thankful for the many people who have been encouraging me and supporting me as I prepare for this event and who will be there for me no matter what the outcome is.
Envious of childlike excitement
This doesn't have a whole lot to do with the theme of this blog, but I wanted to write about it anyways. And since its my blog, I have that perogative : )
I have to admit to envy. Isn't that one of the seven deadly sins? But what about envy that inspires you and makes you a better person? Anyways, as the title of this post reveals, I'm envious of the pure, unaffected joy and excitement that children feel. The simplest things can make their faces light up with uncomplicated happiness. Us adults rarely experience that. We have so many 'buts' and 'ifs' and other rationalizations about things...or we are just too busy to slow down and enjoy a single moment in time.
The incident that triggered this post happened this weekend. I went to a pumpkin farm with my family. Basically that involved five adults traipsing around after my two year old nephew as he explored the tractors, animals, hay bales, tunnels, etc. He was having a lot of fun. But there was this one particular moment when he turned around and saw the sandbox. This was a pretty awesome sandbox. It was probably the size of my apartment and was full of every kind of Tonka truck imaginable - bulldozers, dumptrucks, diggers, and more. My nephew loves trucks. In that instant when he caught sight of this kids wonderland, his eyes grew big, his jaw dropped, and his little arms started flapping. I'm not even sure he managed to emit his typical 'wow' - the amazement had stolen his speech. He was literally shaking with excitement.
My description doesn't do the moment justice. It was really special and us adults all agreed that that single moment made our admission price worth it. But on the way home I began to think about when the last time I got that excited was. I honestly can't remember. I try to embrace my childlike side on occasion - I like to swing in the park or make something with lego or simply stop to look at shapes in the clouds. But I tend to guard myself against excitement. Excitement and hope go hand in hand. Excitement is an expectation of something's awesomeness. And I have too much experience with disappointment. I think all adults do and it tends to make us cautious. Which is sad...because we miss out on the pleasure of anticipation. I sometimes wish I could let all that fall away for a day and just experience the world through the trusting, everything-is-new, delight of a child.
I have to admit to envy. Isn't that one of the seven deadly sins? But what about envy that inspires you and makes you a better person? Anyways, as the title of this post reveals, I'm envious of the pure, unaffected joy and excitement that children feel. The simplest things can make their faces light up with uncomplicated happiness. Us adults rarely experience that. We have so many 'buts' and 'ifs' and other rationalizations about things...or we are just too busy to slow down and enjoy a single moment in time.
The incident that triggered this post happened this weekend. I went to a pumpkin farm with my family. Basically that involved five adults traipsing around after my two year old nephew as he explored the tractors, animals, hay bales, tunnels, etc. He was having a lot of fun. But there was this one particular moment when he turned around and saw the sandbox. This was a pretty awesome sandbox. It was probably the size of my apartment and was full of every kind of Tonka truck imaginable - bulldozers, dumptrucks, diggers, and more. My nephew loves trucks. In that instant when he caught sight of this kids wonderland, his eyes grew big, his jaw dropped, and his little arms started flapping. I'm not even sure he managed to emit his typical 'wow' - the amazement had stolen his speech. He was literally shaking with excitement.
Note: This picture isn't of the day we went. I got it from Google Images.
But it does give a bit of a sense of what the sandbox was like.
My description doesn't do the moment justice. It was really special and us adults all agreed that that single moment made our admission price worth it. But on the way home I began to think about when the last time I got that excited was. I honestly can't remember. I try to embrace my childlike side on occasion - I like to swing in the park or make something with lego or simply stop to look at shapes in the clouds. But I tend to guard myself against excitement. Excitement and hope go hand in hand. Excitement is an expectation of something's awesomeness. And I have too much experience with disappointment. I think all adults do and it tends to make us cautious. Which is sad...because we miss out on the pleasure of anticipation. I sometimes wish I could let all that fall away for a day and just experience the world through the trusting, everything-is-new, delight of a child.
The value of religion as tradition
I have some friends who are very devoted believers but who remain open and accepting and have actually been a great support to me. I have other friends who believe in some sort of spirituality that makes them feel more connected to the world but does not involve a specific religious tradition. I have one friend who has embraced ancient Egyptology because somehow she finds meaning in it, not necessarily because she believes it’s true. And yet another friend appreciates the mythology of Christianity and Judaism without necessarily holding to all the tenets of those faiths. Thus, not everyone I know takes religion to the extreme in which it becomes an us versus them battle with eternal consequences that leads to significant hurt both psychologically and emotionally even here in the present (okay…wow, that was quite a sentence that clearly reveals that I’ve had some bad experiences with faith…phew).
Right now for me, participating in faith based activities is dangerous because it evokes the rigid, guilt-based mentalities that I’ve grown up with. But, recent discussions have caused me to think about what values there may be in the traditions of the church.
For example, one of the things that drew me to Judaism, even while I was a Christian was the rich traditions that make proponents feel connected to a long history. I felt that by rejecting the so-called pomp and circumstance of denominations such as the Anglicans and Catholics, my particular church had lost something. In fact, there is a movement among the youth in evangelical churches to return to what they call the ancient paths, a movement which embraces monastic traditions and new styles of liturgy, specifically because they too feel that lack.
I have felt in the past that even the Western world in general is missing a deeper connection with history. Our culture is very much about the now. We don’t emphasize traditional celebrations or recounting of the past in the same way that many other cultures around the world do. Sometimes I feel like our culture is, in fact, a lack of culture.
So is it possible that religion could be embraced solely for its ability to bring that kind of meaning? There is much to be learned from history. There is much to be learned from stories, even if they are fictional. As my one friend says, there is something to the mythology of the church that has value. Can religion help shape values and community and culture without taking a defensive position that it, and it alone, has access to truth?
I don’t know. I believe there are people who participate in religion who most definitely can. They gain what they need or want and live their lives with openness and integrity. But can religion as an organized phenomenon take such a position? Religion by its very nature has great potential to be used to control others. But it also has the potential to be used for great good. Unfortunately, I’ve seen more evidence for the former than the latter.
With all of this on my mind, I really enjoyed this article asking the question “Can religion tell us more than science?” What I found most interesting was the perspective that in the past, religion was about how to live, not about beliefs. The article actually directly references myths, saying,
“Myths aren't relics of childish thinking that humanity leaves behind as it marches towards a more grown-up view of things. They're stories that tell us something about ourselves that can't be captured in scientific theories.”And then later,
“Human beings don't live by argumentation, and it's only religious fundamentalists and ignorant rationalists who think the myths we live by are literal truths.”
Of course, Christians will argue that we can’t know how we should live without some sort of objective standard like the Bible (ignoring of course all the difficulties with viewing that book as objective). But I don’t think it’s so much about how we SHOULD live as simply how we want to live, what values we as a community share, what resonates with our experiences as humans in this world. Its why even in this modern age, social media is returning us to an emphasis on story and our participation in the story. We just aren’t persuaded by bullet point benefits (or bullet points beliefs).
I think the thing I miss most about being part of the Christian community is those odd glimpses I’d catch of a connection to something bigger than myself. The moments that felt the most profound were when a song or a skit or a play or a story captured my attention, drew me into the story, and gave me a sense of wonder and amazement. In those moments, I would feel inspired to do my part, to be a better person, to have hope. And then, the moment would die as whatever was portrayed was picked apart in an attempt to decide what was true or what was distorted and thus might deceive.
I’m not entirely sure how to end this post except to say that I’d be more open to a religion that could provide that sense of continuity, of connection, without requiring the gymnastics needed to avoid the cognitive dissonance that arises from contradictory, unsubstantiated beliefs. Can any religious studies majors chime in with whether such a religion would actually be defined as a religion in that case?
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