Pissing up a Tree
Nov. 23rd, 2003 01:57 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
rinueFor reasons that have never been fully explained to me, Patrick went through a lot of high-level military training as a kid. One of these classes was in "escape and evasion," or, as I call it, "the importance of not being seen." Perhaps the most intriguing reality learned during these days on end of sneaking around the woods while people hunt you was the necessity of keeping warm - not, as you might think, for the obvious reasons, but because if you're cold you have to pee more often. Thereby, people can track you.
It is so cold in this theater that I have to go to the bathroom every ten minutes. (Admittedly, some of this may be boredom.) However, I am reassured by the play for which I'm currently running sound, the play which is trying hard to convince me that I'll be warm very soon for the simple reason that Christ is coming and would like me to roast in the fiery realms of Hell.
(You might wonder at this point why I would agree to work on such a production, but the people are nice, the music is catchy, there are free sodas, and I'm getting paid. Also, they need me desperately, and I'm a benevolent person.)
It alarms me how much the typical church message has changed in the past six or seven years. Admittedly, I veer toward the less evangelical Presbyterian or Episcopal experience, where people sort of blandly acknowlege that being kind is a worthwhile idea and ask to be granted "peace" instead of "God's glory." Even so, I've always kept tabs on the movements of popular denominations, which is a matter of simple practicality in the Bible belt.
I'm frightened that nobody is trying to "convert" me any more. It might have been annoying, but it was something I could understand - even admire. If a church tries to convert you, it's lust for more tithes, but if an individual tries to convert you, it's usually because they care about your soul and are genuinely worried that you might face an eternity of torture. So worried that they're willing to approach a stranger who will probably mock them.
Or at least that's how it used to be.
Now, most of the rhetoric is more smug: it's the end of the world, and we're the only ones who are going to be saved because we're better people than you. I suppose you could say religion has always been that way, but that is simply not the case; there is too much evidence to the contrary. I'm not going to discuss the danger of believing it's the end of the world, and the personal irresponsibility such a belief accomodates, because I think it's well established. What I'm interested in is how different this Christian "end of the world" movement is from what you usually see in Christian "end of the world" movements.
Usually, conversion is important - trying to save a lot of people and thus make sure the "balance" is tilted toward good in the end. This is not always done compassionately; it can involve measures like the Spanish Inquisition. However, there's a geniune concern for "saving" people.
Second, there is typically a need for personal purification - the idea that "judgement day" may come any minute, and you need to make sure you will not be found lacking. Once again, this is not always good; it can lead to unhealthily rigid interpretations of scripture. That said, the basic motivation is to live life in accordance with the principles you espouse, which typically involve helpful things like mercy and forgiveness.
The present movement lacks both of these principles. There is an idea that "holy" people, (defined as "anyone who thinks the way I do,") will immediately be snatched up by "the rapture," from which intensely pleasurable state they can snicker as all the people who disagreed with them die painful deaths and go to an aeternal Hell.
When I say I am frightened by this oddly mainstream movement, (which includes about 15% of the US population,) it should be noted that I am also frightened for these people. Actually, "frightened" is probably the wrong word; I should say "pained." I feel about them the same way I feel for schizophrenics and other delusionals - not because I think Evangelical Christians are crazy, but because the world must seem so frightening to them. I know that sounds condescending, but I can't think of a better way to word it.
Can you imagine believing, as much of their rhetoric suggests, that God's protection is tantamount to your safety - and that no matter what you do, you will not be protected because other people in the world sin? No wonder you stop trying to convert people - it doesn't matter, because you can't convert everyone.
All you can hope is that God, in his mercy, will kill them all so that you can be safe again.
It is so cold in this theater that I have to go to the bathroom every ten minutes. (Admittedly, some of this may be boredom.) However, I am reassured by the play for which I'm currently running sound, the play which is trying hard to convince me that I'll be warm very soon for the simple reason that Christ is coming and would like me to roast in the fiery realms of Hell.
(You might wonder at this point why I would agree to work on such a production, but the people are nice, the music is catchy, there are free sodas, and I'm getting paid. Also, they need me desperately, and I'm a benevolent person.)
It alarms me how much the typical church message has changed in the past six or seven years. Admittedly, I veer toward the less evangelical Presbyterian or Episcopal experience, where people sort of blandly acknowlege that being kind is a worthwhile idea and ask to be granted "peace" instead of "God's glory." Even so, I've always kept tabs on the movements of popular denominations, which is a matter of simple practicality in the Bible belt.
I'm frightened that nobody is trying to "convert" me any more. It might have been annoying, but it was something I could understand - even admire. If a church tries to convert you, it's lust for more tithes, but if an individual tries to convert you, it's usually because they care about your soul and are genuinely worried that you might face an eternity of torture. So worried that they're willing to approach a stranger who will probably mock them.
Or at least that's how it used to be.
Now, most of the rhetoric is more smug: it's the end of the world, and we're the only ones who are going to be saved because we're better people than you. I suppose you could say religion has always been that way, but that is simply not the case; there is too much evidence to the contrary. I'm not going to discuss the danger of believing it's the end of the world, and the personal irresponsibility such a belief accomodates, because I think it's well established. What I'm interested in is how different this Christian "end of the world" movement is from what you usually see in Christian "end of the world" movements.
Usually, conversion is important - trying to save a lot of people and thus make sure the "balance" is tilted toward good in the end. This is not always done compassionately; it can involve measures like the Spanish Inquisition. However, there's a geniune concern for "saving" people.
Second, there is typically a need for personal purification - the idea that "judgement day" may come any minute, and you need to make sure you will not be found lacking. Once again, this is not always good; it can lead to unhealthily rigid interpretations of scripture. That said, the basic motivation is to live life in accordance with the principles you espouse, which typically involve helpful things like mercy and forgiveness.
The present movement lacks both of these principles. There is an idea that "holy" people, (defined as "anyone who thinks the way I do,") will immediately be snatched up by "the rapture," from which intensely pleasurable state they can snicker as all the people who disagreed with them die painful deaths and go to an aeternal Hell.
When I say I am frightened by this oddly mainstream movement, (which includes about 15% of the US population,) it should be noted that I am also frightened for these people. Actually, "frightened" is probably the wrong word; I should say "pained." I feel about them the same way I feel for schizophrenics and other delusionals - not because I think Evangelical Christians are crazy, but because the world must seem so frightening to them. I know that sounds condescending, but I can't think of a better way to word it.
Can you imagine believing, as much of their rhetoric suggests, that God's protection is tantamount to your safety - and that no matter what you do, you will not be protected because other people in the world sin? No wonder you stop trying to convert people - it doesn't matter, because you can't convert everyone.
All you can hope is that God, in his mercy, will kill them all so that you can be safe again.
