The ten commandments are a great outline for life. For many people, without religion, there would be no structure by which we maintain our sense of right or wrong. Religion keeps us in line, keep us from challenging the boundaries. Religion just keeps us human. But it’s simply not that black and white.
I agree that religion, at its most basic intention, does well for the human race. But there are way too many opportunities for corruption. Too many get involved in the church for the wrong reasons. There is so much inconsistency within the interpretation of what you read in the holy books. When I was very young, I wasn't “force-fed” religion. My mother told me she chose not to baptize me because she wanted me to be given the freedom and power of making my choice. I’ll be honest; there was a time when I resented that a bit. Because I didn’t know what to believe, and I blamed that on the fact that I wasn’t steered in any direction. I had gone to school with so many other children who belonged to a church organization. It was an extension of their family. And like so many other pre-teen children, I longed to belong.
When I hit the junior-high age, I began to receive more pressure on the religion issue from my step-mother and father, and I was open and eager to learn. My step-mother began doing educational exercises; I began learning the ten commandments and the books of the Bible. I started going to a youth group of a church in the neighborhood that my parents had found. I continued going, but they started going less and less. I was finally being pushed into what I thought was the right direction.
From that point on, my parents no longer joined me in going to church. I found my “faith” with friends. Going to friends’ churches. I suddenly found that sense of belonging that I had been lacking. One church I had joined, had a youth group and a lovely choir, And being a singer, I wanted to join that choir. I felt that this would be a very proud moment for me. I worked hard.
Then one day they lowered the minimum age for the main choir, and it happened to be my age. I was so nervous and excited. I auditioned and got the word that I had been accepted. We celebrated at home. I felt good. I felt that I was joining a group, I was on the right path. I knew of some church goers that spoke to God, that spoke in tongues, and though I didn’t feel compelled that way, I thought that it would come to me in time. My first day in the BIG choir came, and I was given my robe. I filed in on stage behind the pastor’s podium. I was so nervous and filled with pride.
Recently, at this time in my life, I had been hanging out with friends of mine who had gone on to work at Disneyland. I ended up spending years there myself, but that’s a story for another day. The people that I met then, and ever since have become some of my most treasured friends. Beautiful, intelligent, witty, amazingly talented people who took me under their wing, treated me like a little sister and made me feel like I had been accepted by birds of a feather. Most of these people were gay.
And that day, I sat before the congregation, for the very first time. We sang our hymns, and it was a joyous, fulfilling experience. However, that happened to be the day that the pastor’s sermon was going to be about homosexuals. The pastor was angry. His aggressive demeanor was jarring to me. He was banging his fists on the podium and yelling about how homosexuals were sinners, and they were going to hell. I sat behind him, unable to react or to respond. I was thirteen years old and too timid to do anything. I wanted to get up and take off my robe and walk out. To make a statement. But I couldn’t. I thought, I could never think that way about those wonderful people; these friends I had made, who were so loving and tolerant and beautiful inside and out. I had been elated to receive that robe. After that sermon, I took off my robe, I hung it up with the others, I walked out of that church and I never went back.
That wasn’t the last time I gave the church a try. My parents were worried that I was going to go through life and abandon all sense of faith. So I tried going to Buddhist temples. I tried going to Methodist church. I even spent a few mornings at a Korean Lutheran church. Until I found a new friend one day, who invited me to attend her church with her. They were a lovely group. I felt very at home here for the first time in a long time. By this time, I was a bit older and joined the youth group at her church. It was a true fellowship; I felt a great sense of companionship. There were other teens my age who shared my love for music and telling jokes. And let’s face it, like any 15-year-old girl is focused on, there were some cute boys there as well. I was in like Flynn.
Once again, this was all interrupted by one disturbing incident. We had a guest speaker come to our youth club. Everyone was very excited to have him. He was a pastor in a major church somewhere with a much larger congregation than we had in our little town. He began with a few jokes, trying to be “hip” to this room full of adolescents. It quickly became clear that there was going to be a lesson in his sermon about keeping the faith with God and “showing up” for God so to speak. No matter what is happening in one's life, you should always be present in the church and make that effort. However, he decided to site an example, and that example was Princess Diana. I will let that sink in. PRINCESS DIANA. He mentioned all of the wonderful things she had done for the world, feeding the children, clothing those in need. But to this man, it didn’t matter what she did with her life, what mattered was what her relationship was with God at the end of the day. The moral of the story was a valid one. But I was shaking with distress. I looked around the room, all of my peers were nodding their heads in agreement. I wanted to stand up. How do YOU know what her relationship was with God?! That poor woman couldn’t take two steps out her front door without being stalked, harassed and photographed! I don’t blame her for not wanting to bring that to the church. Of course, none of us know what her relationship was with God, but she was as close to an angel on Earth as we get in the human race. I was very upset. I kept a calm face. I couldn’t believe that yet again I had gone to be with people who were supposed to be promoting the highest form of love, and all I had encountered was rage and judgment. But I learned a very valuable lesson that day. I went home distraught and had a very lengthy discussion with my parents. They understood where I was coming from and respected my decision. I would not be going back.
I’ll never say that organized religion is BAD. But we put so much faith in those who are supposed to be bringing us the good word. If the church has brought you a joy and comfort that enriches your life, then I applaud that church. Everyone deserves to have the choice to believe what they want and let it bring them and their families wisdom and mirth. What I learned is, that it’s the choice that is important. It turned out that my mother was right all along, she gave me that choice. I don’t know what Princess Diana believed or didn’t believe, but that’s just the point. IT’S NONE OF MY BUSINESS. Maybe she spoke to God and prayed while she was in the bathtub, the only place she could ever be truly alone due to her fame. Who knows? And I know that accepting and letting people in, showing them warmth and brotherhood should come first, and being concerned about what they believe and who they are attracted to should come dead last.
I don’t know for sure what I believe about “God.” I know that I always pray in my car when I pass a bad accident, for the wounded and their families. I know that I thank God for my little family. I can spend the rest of my life figuring out what I believe and how to express that, and that is okay. My relationship with whatever higher power there may be is mine and mine alone. I will never again choose to be under someone else’s curriculum of life; to dictate to me what’s right or wrong, how to pray or how I choose to love my fellow man. The power of spirituality is strong and personal. The day I chose to stop going to church, I had a revelation. For the first time in my life, I no longer wanted or needed to “belong”. I already had, all along.
