Tag: Church

  • Turn or Burn

    My world has been rocked this week.  I found out about a scandal at my workplace.  It is really bothering me.  If the allegations are true, this individual did some pretty “Immoral” stuff.

    This is my question:  Do we have to have a God to behave morally?  It seems to me that morality and spirituality are always tethered to the same thought.  But should they be?  If the past decades have taught us nothing it should be that Spiritual leaders can do very immoral things.

    But what about the reverse?

    Do you have to be spiritual or even believe in a god to be moral?  I think most people would say no…but deep down I think we are comforted by the notion of hell to keep would be lawbreakers from crossing the line.

    I am outraged at this colleague not because he has offended my faith, but because he has offended my humanity.  We have all agreed to behave a certain way.  There is a handbook.  I may not agree with every rule, but I will follow them or willingly face the consequences.

    If there is no threat of hell or even the terrestrial prison, should we act in a moral way?  The answer would seem to be obvious.  But if you listen to some Christians, without god we would all revert to our most base animal natures.  I don’t buy it.

    Do the right thing.  DO THE RIGHT THING!

  • More than meets the eye

    I love driving from the Eisenhower tunnel, down through the Rocky Mountains and into Denver (my home town).  As you go barreling down I-70, you round one mountain, just to see another, and another and another.  And just when you think that you are forever trapped in this rocky landscape, you round a curve and see this vast open plain.  On clear days you can see not only the suburbs, but downtown Denver itself.  It is an amazing view.

    One of my favorite Beatles songs is “A Day in the Life.”  It starts as a very ethereal morose tune where John Lennon describes his mourning.  At a certain point, the song completely changes and becomes almost a cheerful list of Paul McCartney recounting his morning.  The song ends in a cacophony as if the two micro songs collide.

    When I was a kid and church, I noticed that in every song service began with Hymns slow at first and building to a hymn with a very fast tempo.  Then quite suddenly, the final hymn would dramatically change into a slow repetitive chorus like Alleluia (the same word sung over and over to different cords).

    Each of these things have one theme in common that I love:  Transitions.  I choose my word carefully.  I like transitions, not metamorphosis.  Metamorphosis implies a permanent change from one state into another.  Religion is very big on Metamorphosis.  They want to change one thing into something else entirely.  Transition on the other hand, suggest a more fluid state, where one thing becomes another and can easily move back and forth.

    For a long while now, I have been in self imposed isolation.  I was afraid that I had gone through a metamorphosis from being a Christian to being an atheist.  Fear prevented me from letting anyone know this.  It was a well guarded secret.  I did not want others to think I was no longer, well, Ben.

    But over the last month or so, I have started letting down my guard and openly sharing my doubts and sometimes revulsion to religion.  The more I share, the more I realize that I have not gone through a metamorphosis at all.  I am in a more active period of transition.  I am at various times both sinner and saint.  I am full of faith and an atheist.  Wise and yet really stupid.  Nice but occasionally cruel.

    The great recent development is that I don’t worry as much about defining myself as one thing or another.  I am seeking, discovering, trying, failing, growing and dying.  I don’t want to be defined by any one thing.

    Tada! Now let me begin…

  • Tooth-tify

     

    Yesterday was a friend’s going away party at work.  We had lunch at Uncle Julio’s, a local Mexican restaurant.  I was munching away on a basket of chips when I thought I bit on a course piece of cornmeal.  It wasn’t cornmeal.  It was my tooth.  Crushed that sucker to bits.  All that remains is the remnants of a filling and part of the back tooth.

    I nearly went insane.  Not because of the pain, mind you.  I was going nuts because I could not stop licking the jagged stump of my tooth.  I was NOT in pain.  But I could not stop myself.  My tongue almost went raw from probing the broken tooth.  The only way I could stop myself was to buy “tooth spackle” to fill the hole.

    That is when it hit me.  I was causing my own hell.  I had a mouth full of perfectly healthy teeth.  Nothing was protruding.  My tongue could lay flat in my mouth with no ill effect.  But I had to focus on the one tooth that was not working properly until I made myself miserable.

    Religion is my tooth.  I have so many things in my life that go off without a hitch.  I live a blessed existence.  According to Forbes magazine, I live in the second most affluent county in the country.  I am married and have a brilliant son.  I have health insurance.  I have a secure job.  But what do I focus on?  How my religious upbringing wrecked my life.

    Wrecked really???  Hmmm…

    And You May Find Yourself Living In A Shotgun Shack
    And You May Find Yourself In Another Part Of The World
    And You May Find Yourself Behind The Wheel Of A Large Automobile
    And You May Find Yourself In A Beautiful House, With A Beautiful wife
    And You May Ask Yourself-Well…How Did I Get Here?

    –Talking Heads, 1984

    I live in heaven and I obsess about going to hell in the afterlife.  Note to self:  It’s not about you!  Get over it.  There are real people in real hell right now.  Do something about it.

    I think I am a little too focused on my broken tooth.

  • Git Off My Lawn

    Git Off My Lawn!!!

    Yes, I am becoming that guy, the old man shaking his cane at the neighborhood kids for playing in his yard.  It hit me yesterday when I reread my own posting.  There is a core of white hot anger at my core that has to do with the way that organized religion #$@#%!! (made sweet love) to my brain.

    I do not want to buy that guy.  In my small group we have been talking about heaven and hell and the idea that they are both so much a destination, but a state of mind.  You can live your life in either place…now.  I have been hanging out in hell for the last decade.  I am tired.  It is time to move on.

    …easier said than done.  I have a lot of baggage that I need to jettison.  So today I am metaphorically saying goodbye to the following:

    • Hell
    • The Devil
    • The Rapture
    • “A Thief in the Night” & “Distant Thunder”
    • Us and them
    • Fire
    • Brimstone
    • Hate
    • Gossip
    • Afterglows
    • Tongues
    • Interpretation
    • Slain in the spirit
    • Jericho Marches
    • Laying hands on broken down cars
    • Hell Houses
    • demons
    • Demon Possession
    • The sins of makeup, cards, social dancing, mixed swimming, movies, darn, shoot, shucks and flip
    • Raising of hands
    • Alter Calls
    • Dramatic presentations of final judgment (where your friend and his mother are actors…spoiler alert…he goes to heaven and she goes to hell)
    • Revivals
    • Tent meetings
    • KFC buckets for offering
    • The word Fellowship
    • The spirits of rock, sex, alcoholism, anger & heaviness
    • Four Spiritual Laws
    • Sinners Prayer
    • End times timelines
    • The Anti Christ(s):  Henry Kissinger, Michael Jackson, Bill Clinton, Madonna
    • Backward masking
    • Stryper
    • The word Secular
    • Etcetera
    • Etcetera

    Goodbye and good riddance.  Spleen vented…

    Now on to happier topics…

  • Gimme that Ole Time Religion?

    There is an old song called “Give Me That Old Time Religion.”  It goes as follows:

    Give me that old-time religion,

    Give me that old-time religion,

    Give me that old-time religion,

    It’s good enough for me.

    Here is my question:  To which religion does the writer refer?

    The religion where humanity was cursed for wanting to be like their creator?

    The religion where all but a handful of humans and animals are drowned?

    The religion that prescribed animal sacrifice for assuaging the God’s anger?

    The religion that prescribed genocide as the solution for settling an already populated area?

    The religion that will condemn the vast majority of humanity to eternal suffering if they do not utter the magic sinner’s prayer?

    The religion that condoned conversion by sword?

    The religion that burned people at the stake?

    The religion that scarred countless generations?

    Is that the one?

    Maybe, just maybe it is NOT good enough.

    Maybe the institutions that were charge with facilitating spirituality have utterly and completely failed us.

    Maybe it is time to reexamine.

    Maybe it is time to rethink.

    Maybe it is time to imagine.

  • Theology for dummies (nomenclature, part 1)

    Eggnogstic:  Individuals who believe that the trinity is nothing like the reproductive system of a chicken or its offspring.

  • Spooky Spells (alternative title: Altered States)

    I had lunch with a friend today.  We were kidding around when the topic of religion came up.  We have similar backgrounds and have complementary world views.

    He said something that, while making me laugh, took me to another place and time, when I was another person.  It would be like watching someone brush their teeth with Preparation-H.  It’s funny, but gross.

    If you have ever heard these words, I guarantee you positive or negative you will have a visceral response.  Fair warning…I am about to cast the spell….look on at your own peril.

    Now I would like every head bowed and every eye closed with nobody looking around.

    Welcome back.  How was your magical mystical tour?

  • Groupy

    I start this post with a quote.

    I would never want to belong to any club that would have someone like me for a member.

     –Woody Allen as Alvy Singer in Anne Hall

    Something rather unexpected has happened.  I joined a … … not sure what to call it.  It is a group.  I can say that with absolute confidence.  But defining it is beyond my descriptive powers.  That is probably a good thing.  Labels tend to ruin things.

    Group good…Ben like…

    The group is called Imagine, based loosely on the song by Lennon.  The members are a wide assortment of individuals: seekers, people who have been disillusioned (my particular subcategory) and just regular church folk looking for more.  There are some like me that have been living in “Christiania” all there life as well as people who were adult converts and for that matter those who make no claim to conversion at all.  The perspectives are as more diverse than a typical study group.

    But what amazes me, is that someone can tell their story from a completely different point of view and something in it resonates.  And the facilitators are great about not pushing dogma or trying to enforce orthodoxy.

    What more freakish is that this just fell into my lap.  I did not seek it out at all.  It just happened.  It provides exactly what I need for this point in my life:  a safe environment where I can explore my faith (or lack thereof).  I would say it is providence…except I don’t believe in providence.  I may have to reexamine that stance.

    The hardest thing for me is not dominating the conversation.  I have bottled up this crap for almost a decade.  I share it on this blog, but there is no substitute for human interaction.  I could have blabbed all night.  To quote the book of James, “shut your cake hole once in a while.”  (That was a paraphrase)  Listening to other people’s stories is like taking a hit of Albuterol after a 10 year asthma attack. I can feel their words coursing through dark dusty corners of my soul.

    For the first time in years, I have something to look forward to.

    Imagine that!

  • Imagine, part 1

    What do you know about the circumstances of your birth?

    There are a couple of tidbits I remember hearing about the day I was born. First of all it was August and my mother just wanted me out. It was hot and nobody in Colorado had AC back then, except of course the hospital. My dad drove a truck for Valley Steel at the time. He was making a delivery to Pueblo when my mother went into labor. He had to quickly unload his truck and make the 4 hour drive back to Fort Colllins. At the time, this hospital did not allow men in the delivery room. My dad arrived shortly before I was born and was having a hot dog with my older sister in the cafeteria when I made my appearance.

    Mom and Dad (Early Years)

    My sister Becky

    What is the story about your name?

    I was named after my maternal great grandfather, Benjamin Alexander Best. My name is Benjamin Best Roberts. My son’s middle name (Alexander) came from the same individual. He was a cattle farmer in Hastings, Nebraska. He was famous in our family for making a fortune, losing it all and then making a fortune again (Great Depression). I never met him. He died when I was 2. There are numerous family photos of him, but there is not much of a resemblance.

    Benjamin Alexander Best

    Elderly B.A.B.

    What are your first memories?

    When I was about 3, my dad was hired by the Colorado State Patrol. He was stationed in Golden, so we moved to the Denver suburbs. We rented a house in Lakewood for three months while my parents sold their Fort Collins home. I have two sketchy memories from that house. One I remember getting my hair washed in the kitchen sink. Two I slept on the hid-a-bed in the living room because I used to sing myself to sleep and it kept my sister, who was in kindergarten awake. So I fell asleep while my parents watched TV.

    What toys, people, games do you remember as a child?

    When it comes to toys, a couple of things come to mind. Fisher Price made a music box that looked like a record player. It came with 5 little two sided records that played nursery rhyme songs. I am shocked that my parents did not go insane since I played it all the time. FP also made a Noah’s Ark that I loved. Looking back, I now think it is a wholly inappropriate theme for a children’s toy. But what’cha gunna do?

    Me @ 4ish

    Ethan @ 4ish

    How did your early childhood help to form your faith?

    I have very fond memories of the adults in my life when I was a child. The church I attended had numerous elderly couples that treated me as a surrogate grandchild. At the time, my church used the title of brother and sister for every adult. I get very nostalgic reflecting on that time of my life.

    My awareness of god was never keener than in those first years of life. I did not have faith. I had an invisible friend named Jesus and we talked about everything. I often would carry on long conversations with Jesus. When I was alone, he and I would play together. My parents bought set of Bible story books that was a library the size of a set of encyclopedias (I still have a set). I knew all the stories inside and out. Sunday school teachers would often have to silence me when I would correct them on some nuance of the weekly lessons. I was in church every Wednesday night and twice on Sundays. When I add it up now, I was in church at least 8 hours a week. That does not count the time I spent in the church while my parents were in choir rehearsal or other meetings. At least twice a month we would have meals with other church families, not to mention all the regular potlucks and “afterglows.”

    My world was saturated with God. My parents were core members of their congregation. God was not just omnipresent, he was ubiquitous.

  • The Many Faces of One

    For the past few months, my wife and I have been watching reruns of Star Trek Voyager on Netflix with my son.  I make no apologies for trying to get him hooked on science fiction.  I think science fiction teaches us a lot about what it means to be living in an ever changing world(s).

    We have gotten to the later seasons where one where they introduce my favorite bad guys, the Borg.

    For those unfortunate souls that are unfamiliar with the Borg, they are rigidly inflexible crew of cybernetic humanoids all connected to the “Hive Mind.”  Any individual can get sucked into their “collective” by “assimilation.”  Basically a Borg injects you with a bunch of “Nanoprobes” that connect you to the collective consciousness and your own personality is sublimated by the will of the “hive mind.”  You surrender all of you individuality to become part of a greater being.

    In case you were wondering, this entry is NOT a science fiction fan entry.  Actually what I want to address is Religion.  I know; you are shocked.

    Mosaic of Jesus with faces of ordinary people

    I had coffee with a new friend today.  The discussion centered on disillusionment with the church and trying to find spirituality in the absence of organized religion.  As I was driving away to get to work, it occurred to me, there are a lot of parallels between religion and my favorite SciFi villains.

    With few exceptions, people (me included), are pack animals.  We thrive in community.  We like to contribute to the greater good.  We want to think we are part of something bigger than ourselves.  We want connection.  We fear dying alone.  We want to think that our lives matter and that part of us will in some fashion continue after we die.

    Now given that lofty list you might conclude that the perfect prescription is religion.  Sadly in many cases what you get from organized religion is something more like the Borg.  And before you know it, BAM, you have been assimilated.  You are injected with something called theology.  The purpose of these little buggers is to string a library full of inspirational tales into a historical narrative.  The end result, if taught properly, is group think, conformity, orthodoxy.  If you stray too far from the orthodoxy, the collective will come down hard on you.  In extreme cases, a person can be shunned.

    Now of course this is a gross exaggeration.  Most churches mean well.  It is just that to varying degrees, religion does not want you to “think outside the box.”  There is very little flexibility especially in Christianity which believes their holy book, The Bible, to be inerrant.  Inerrant basically means that when taken in context, the Bible is the actual word of God.  There is no room for argument.  Even though in my opinion, it is impossible to flawlessly know what the authors meant.  Heck I doubt any of you reading this blog will know exactly what I am trying to convey.  Every denomination/sect, of which there are hundreds, was formed because someone disagreed with their church so strongly that they felt they could no longer worship with others that did not agree with them.

    My point is this:  community has nothing to do with conformity.  I can only speak for myself.  But what I want from religion is the recognition that while our experiences are different we have both share common feelings.  I want appreciation of my uniqueness and simultaneous recognition that you and I are exactly the same.  It is a beautiful paradox.