In order to actively love Love, we must actively hate Hate
In order to actively serve humanity, we must discontinue service to this sick, sad society
In order to actively free the spirit, we must actively destroy religion
Amen
The bathroom door was cracked, so I walked up where I knew he could hear me.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Santa. I know I’m only 6 years old, but I need you to just tell me the truth. Santa’s not real, right?”
“Well… You’re too young to know that. You’re supposed to have a few more years of fun.”
“So…”
“Yeah, Santa’s… the spirit of Christmas… but no, he’s not a real person.”
“It’s you and Mom who put my toys out, and it’s Adam’s mom and dad who put his toys out.”
“Yes, but do NOT tell Adam, and do NOT tell your sister.”
“I’m pretty sure Adam already knows.”
“Well, don’t tell your sister!”
Adults were keeping all kinds of secrets from us. They were telling us lies! It was my mission to uncover the truth! Truth would be my lifelong quest.
Riding bikes up Oakleaf Drive, Dereck asked, “Why don’t you go to church?”
“I don’t know,” I replied, “Why should I go to church?”
“Well, if you’re not a Christian, you go to hell.”
“Oh.”
“All you have to do is ask Jesus to forgive you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Just say, ‘Jesus, please forgive me of my sins.’””
“You’re kidding, right?”
“No, just say it.”
“Jesus, forgive me of my sins.”
“OK, you’re saved.”
“Saved from hell?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, thank God for that.”
The bathroom door was cracked, so I walked up where I knew he could hear me.
“Dad?”
“Yes?”
“I’ve been thinking a lot about Jesus. I know I’m only 6 years old, but I need you to just tell me the truth. Jesus is not real, right?”
“Ummm….”
“It’s another one of those lies parents say, right?”
“Well, I don’t believe in Jesus, but you can believe whatever you want.”
“How come everybody in the neighborhood goes to church, and we don’t?”
“You can go to church if you want to.”
The Brimwood’s had agreed I could join them this Sunday at church. Their two sons and I would go to Sunday school then join the adults in the chapel for the sermon afterwards. Small southern Church of Christ churches were known for loving hospitality and openness. Just kidding. Church of Christ was known for being hateful, rigid and harshly judgmental. I was in for it.
In North Alabama, upon introducing one’s self, it was customary to wear an unblinking, plastic doll face smile upon asking, “What denomination are you?” and “To what church do you belong?”
“I am no denomination.”
“I am no denomination.”
“My family and I do not go to church.”
“I am no denomination.”
I was used to adults’ uncomfortable reactions when I told them my family didn’t belong to a church, but that particular Sunday morning was the most uncomfortable situation I’d ever been in. Presumably out of embarrassment, Adam had stopped introducing me as his friend, and upon entering the Sunday schoolroom, he had taken a seat on the other side of the room, assuring there were no vacant seats for me to sit anywhere close to him.
I listened to incoherent babbling about a giant and a king named Dave until I couldn’t stand it any longer. Every attempt I’d made that morning to socialize or participate was shunned. Sitting in that little desk in that little schoolroom in that little church, I raised my hand. The teacher ignored me for quite some time before calling on me.
I could always see straight through the judging plastic face of southern hospitality. As I was so often the odd man out, I learned to lean into it fully. The odd man out must embrace the oddity or else he’s doomed to live the lie.
“Yes?” the teacher finally pointed to me.
“Who’s David and Goliath?”
There were audible gasps throughout the room, and everyone turned their heads around towards the back of the class. The teacher rolled her eyes, affirming everyone in this room was on one side of the universe, and I was on the opposite side. There was one particularly cunty kid who had gone out of her way to make me look like an asshole multiple times.
“David was a king and Goliath was a giant,” the teacher scoffed.
“Duh!” cried the little cunt kid.
“Yes, but who are they?” I asked.
In that moment, as the anger boiled over in me, it was all directed at this one little cunt kid, and I watched in awe as her hair caught on fire. It took a few moments for the class to realize what was going on. The teacher ran across the room and patted it out as the little cunt cried.
There were candles behind us on the back wall. Clearly, the cunt’s hair had just gotten too close to a candle. But in that moment, I took full credit for that empowering hellfire. Fire is the face of southern hospitality. Judgement and hate are the two faces of religion. From that day onward, I lived my life in opposition to the church in every way. Cast ye stones, cunts! Cast ye stones!
At age 6 I had learned definitively that Santa was fake and Jesus was a racist, Republican homophobe who hated Muslims and wanted black people to serve whites. I learned that Jesus even hated Christians who were different denominations, and in order to practice Christianity, all one needed to do was to babble one line to the savior through gnashed teeth in order to get back to threatening, judging and delivering ultimatums with retributive hellfire and damnation.
I learned that Jesus did not approve of me, and so my side was predetermined. I left Alabama as soon as I possibly could, though I would spend the next decade arguing, outwitting, and “proving” everyone wrong. It didn’t matter what I said or did. My presence made people defensive, whether I smiled or grimaced, was silent or screaming. It was my “attitude,” they said. My attitude was that of embracing the absurdity of life authentically and honestly, skeptically and sincerely questioning everything. But honesty, sincerity and authenticity were not virtues anyone openly accepted, especially when it threatened their entire identities. I knew I was moving towards truth where no one had any answers, for truth cannot fit into words. Truth is within.
Singled out, humor was always my favorite weapon. No one could deny their own laughter. Using the blatantly obvious absurdity with which these humans melded their identities, their dumb rules and beliefs, I would open every subverted existential wound in order to shine light into the dishonesty and inauthenticity which festered within. Science and philosophy were gunpowder for my anti-Christian canon. Although my quest for Truth had come from a truly innocent, inquisitive and curious nature, it was burnt and embittered with a profound desire to bring down the Church of Christ, the Southern Baptists, and all the hateful hypocrisies of my youth. Inauthenticity in the world gave me a purpose, a reason to hold on to my authenticity. Who would I be without them?
There is a happy ending, or some kind of lesson, at least. Growing up in a tribe of ideological opponents swimming in a sea of idiocy, I learned to love people with whom I profoundly disagree. Distinguishing between a dumb belief and the living, loving being whom holds the dumb belief is perhaps more important now than ever. And being outcast from a young age builds a certain courage. It also builds a certain empathy and camaraderie with other social outcasts, which might ironically make up a majority in Alabama.
Many people who grow up with those rigid belief systems become atheists in their adulthood. Being confronted with one’s own idiocy is probably easier when we’re young. To hold on to dumb beliefs only to be stricken by their falseness in adulthood leads to existential crises, which can directly or indirectly lead to crime, addiction or suicide.
Lies have real world impact, and we live in a society built on lies. Existentialism or spirituality is the bedrock of our being. To live an austere life of rigid dogmatic certainty, whether it be scientific or religious, is blasphemy. To compile it with judgement and hate is to bury oneself in one’s own hell. All I know is the importance of “I do not know.” Truth begins in self-inquiry, and self-inquiry begins with “I do not know.”
Ironically, “truth is within” was the direction Jesus was pointing before his intentions were contorted and mangled into another horrific religion. In my twenties I realized the dichotomy between the teachings of Jesus and the institution of the church. The Christian church, in all its inglorious, ungodly incarnations, represents the exact opposite of Jesus’s teachings. In my adulthood, I have a sneaking suspicion that Jesus fully supports and endorses my continued hatred of the corrupted, filthy, godawful, goddamned church. Fuck the church, Merry Christmas and God bless us everyone.
God is Curiosity.
P.S. Jesus writes, “You turned my birthday into a buying frenzy and my death into a bunny rabbit party? Why do the rabbits have eggs? Rabbits didn’t have eggs when I was down there. Who’s the fat guy with the deer? Reindeer are flying now? I really think you all missed the point. Was Earth not good enough for you all? You had to make up a bunch of nonsense? All the lies are really fucking you guys up, you know. You guys can’t keep blaming Dad for all fucked up shit. You guys are inventing all the fucked up shit. Then you go blaming Dad for it. Then you ask ME to forgive you for it. YOU ARE IT. Forgive yourselves and find God in the beautiful world you inherited. Stop fucking it up.”
P.P.S. “I was born in the summer, by the way, and all my teachings warn against the evils of money. EVERYTHING I taught was about ridding corruption and no judging. And now you’re all corrupt and judging each other in my name? And you guys are fucking addicted to materialism! I died to show you how you could die to the world and be reborn to the Oneness of the universe. Mammon is money. The antichrist is money. You get it yet? YOU ARE the assholes I was warning you about!”
P.P.P.S. “You all really ought to consider renaming your religion, Das Capital & The Rabbit Egg Reindeer Party.”