The Church

I sat in church for the first time in many years, and it began to frighten me. There is power here, power that seems corrupt to me, and I fear it. The artwork amazes me. The sculptures, the windows and the beautifully placed flowers alongside the lit candles. Here lies money. I understand the fact that money had been donated here, and that many believe this money is rightfully donated. But I remember the drive here, the half shattered house with lights telling of the family that lived beyond the broken down windows. They made a home of these shattered pieces. They have made a home of so little, and I admire that. I admire that they are able to live this life of simplicity, a life where they are probably more grateful for the cracked roof they have over their heads that keeps them dry most nights than I am for the expensive computer my fingers lay on. But then why? Why is there so much money in their place of worship with none of this fortune given to the world that lays outside of these stained glass windows and stained wood doors?

It is corrupt. This money could be going elsewhere. Worship is not about the place that one chooses to perform it at, it is way more than that but we choose to make it just that. We call ourselves religious because we pray before bed and respect the God. But we fail, we fail to be truly religious. Too many of us fail to see the importance of those who truly worship. The ones who stand up for the less fortunate. The less fortunate that aid our religion ­and the ones who give a true meaning to what we are truly doing. But we forget this quickly and soon our minds are blocked by the basket that comes around for the dollar we do not have to spare.

We come together as a community: a community who feels passionate about the same thing. An alike sensation of love. But I watch as an outsider, I watch the process carefully. I watched the silence take over the room for it seemed more forbidden than ever to let a whisper leave your lips. I sat and watched as the community of people repeated the priest's words and actions. As they sat down, kneeled, and stood up in such an orderly, structured, and repeated fashion. I sat there and watched the robots follow their leader, and it frightened me. They seemed to be controlled, controlled by what they see as the correct leader and the correct direction. A direction that has become one sided. A one sided community of people who believe the word of a book to be interpreted one way, one correct way. A way in which it is forbidden to be snuck out in another aspect. They listened, the response, and they became controlled, controlled without question.

A state where there is no question, is a state worth fearing, a universal phenomena I would believe. We have created a society where it is okay to not question, it has become the norm to sit back and watch your life pass by as your neighbors follow the footsteps you step in without hesitation. We have learned to not fear anything. I have learned that the perception of the church is the first thing worth questioning. We are obligated to question the authority of our society. We are obligated to fear our ignorance. We are obligated to not become the blank minded humans of society. We are obligated to be more than just a human. We are obligated to be humane; to help those who need it, to love those who need it, and to become aware of those who are taking this obligation from us.