WWJD?*
I’m going to talk about religion. If that bothers you, tune in tomorrow and there will be something different.

I started thinking about this a week ago when my Dad asked why so many people who feel they are religious are turned off by “in your face” preachers like Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson, James Dobson and others. I thought awhile and it became clear, to me at least, why that is.

The appeal of Jesus was his charisma. People followed him because they loved him, wanted to be near him, wanted whatever it was he had. They didn’t follow him to be successful in life or to avoid purgatory. In fact, I don’t think you’ll find Jesus talking about Hell in the New Testament, even though he has his encounter with the devil. He does speak of loving your neighbor. He heals the sick and drives out demons and generally hangs out with “sinners and tax collectors.” But he never threatens to do things his way or else put on your best asbestos suit and get ready for the mother of all barbeques.

In Matthew, Jesus said, “Enter by the narrow gate; for the gate is wide and the way is easy that leads to destruction, and those who enter by it are many. For the gate is narrow and the way is hard, that leads to life, and those who find it are few.” 7:13-14 Still, here there is no screaming, threatening and bloviating on the dangers of eternal damnation in the fiery pits of Hell. There’s just an observation—hey, you want some of this? Follow my Father’s commandments and walk in life. Turn away from him and there is only destruction. Your choice baby…your choice.

If the early Christians were led by someone like Pat Robertson, the movement would have died an obscure Jewish cult. It would be long forgotten today. People wanted to follow Jesus, not out of fear but out of love. Pat Robertson frankly gives me the creeps—I wouldn’t want my child anywhere near the man who, on national television, advocated killing the duly elected President of Venezuela. Can you imagine Robertson's Sermon on the Mount?

I go to church almost every Sunday. The Booglet has been going since she was toted about in a carrier. She gets to visit with her cousins, go to children’s chapel, and have lemonade and cookies after the service. About once a month, I take the Eucharist out to nursing homes, read the Old Testament lessons and say prayers with people who are frail in body but strong in spirit.

In short, religion to me is more than a ticket to some fantastic condo in the sky, or insurance that I get sucked up in the rapture while the rest of the world wallows in pain and suffering. To me, it’s the environment I’ve grown up in—the men in my church I saw as a child lead by example. They worked hard, they supported their families and were respected in the community. They’re happy, not continuously fearful of what others are or aren’t doing.

In other words, it’s not like accumulating SkyMiles for my reward and looking down on others who aren’t yet Platinum Medallion members—it’s a quiet haven where I know my daughter can roam freely and she’ll be safe and among people who, while not perfect, are striving to walk through the narrow gate.

And I guess I’m distressed that this concept, to love your neighbor as you love yourself (and let’s face it—that’s a lot) has been so twisted that now all that comes through for many is do it this way or face the wrath of my God—and by the way, my God can kick your god’s butt! Love replaced by fear, joy replaced by guilt, peace replaced by shrillness. I don’t think that’s what God intended. I firmly believe he would, as any parent, want us to have fun while we walk through this life.

In short, I think he’s a loving, gentle Father, not a hard disciplinarian.

Couple that with the rise of political power and the attempts to impose what is someone else’s version of God’s will through a secular framework, and it’s even more distressing.

Okay, I’m done now.
______________________
* What Would Jemison Do?