brand new shine
Returning home from a doggie swim Sunday afternoon, I drove past the church I attended in my youth, and the sign out front stated: “Prayer is the best wireless connection.” This oiled the gears in my head for the last few days as I thought back upon my moment as a semi-regular church attendee.
I was thirteen when this church fired Pastor Joel. The board, or whoever makes the decisions, announced a search for a new priest to “better meet the needs of the congregation.” My interpretation of these words was that the church did not like how Pastor Joel was working with the youth. I asked a lot of questions, like many of my fellow teenagers, and Joel some times had answers, but other times said “I don’t know” while encouraging us to continue our own search. No fire and brimstone, no commandments, but rather conversation. He actually listened to what you had to say, he would argue his point without discrediting yours with the promise of eternal damnation. Plus, he was 6’6” with an Abe Lincoln beard and a sweat hook shot. Yeah, he listened to rock music, but he didn’t tell you about it. His last Sunday was my last Sunday.
I have attended several churches since, mostly to watch nieces and nephews sing or be baptized, once to appease a born-again relative (this gathering was held in a sprawling suburban Chicago multiplex movie theater). These churches had huge screens, “rock” bands, and new, hip approaches that brought religion to the Nineteenth Century. Despite these cool changes or the clever catch phrase, religion is stuck in the branding we see across the world. “Are you a Bud Man?” “Do you believe?”
Religion has reduced itself to meaningless slogans and images; we profess our belief because our neighbor has a garden sculpture of Mary. This is not belief but rather compulsory window-dressing. Now our current political party in power proclaims ownership of this thing while the other choreographs photo-ops to prove their righteousness.
The only spiritual journey I trust is organic. Despite it’s brand new shine, it’s the same old thing.
I was thirteen when this church fired Pastor Joel. The board, or whoever makes the decisions, announced a search for a new priest to “better meet the needs of the congregation.” My interpretation of these words was that the church did not like how Pastor Joel was working with the youth. I asked a lot of questions, like many of my fellow teenagers, and Joel some times had answers, but other times said “I don’t know” while encouraging us to continue our own search. No fire and brimstone, no commandments, but rather conversation. He actually listened to what you had to say, he would argue his point without discrediting yours with the promise of eternal damnation. Plus, he was 6’6” with an Abe Lincoln beard and a sweat hook shot. Yeah, he listened to rock music, but he didn’t tell you about it. His last Sunday was my last Sunday.
I have attended several churches since, mostly to watch nieces and nephews sing or be baptized, once to appease a born-again relative (this gathering was held in a sprawling suburban Chicago multiplex movie theater). These churches had huge screens, “rock” bands, and new, hip approaches that brought religion to the Nineteenth Century. Despite these cool changes or the clever catch phrase, religion is stuck in the branding we see across the world. “Are you a Bud Man?” “Do you believe?”
Religion has reduced itself to meaningless slogans and images; we profess our belief because our neighbor has a garden sculpture of Mary. This is not belief but rather compulsory window-dressing. Now our current political party in power proclaims ownership of this thing while the other choreographs photo-ops to prove their righteousness.
The only spiritual journey I trust is organic. Despite it’s brand new shine, it’s the same old thing.
posted by Auditus at 2:48 PM
1 Comments:
Thus the disconnect:
For some of us the search is the journey. For others the journey ended when we were told that the search was over.
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