stinabean

Easter: proof that Jesus only loves you when you wear pastels. Much to my chagrin, I attended Easter services this weekend as part of my duty to my family. I knew this was coming, I just always forget how unpleasant I find it. I have concluded that almost all religion is simply a response to fear. Fear of dying? No problem. You're promised eternal life in exchange for a life of servitude and worship to a largely invisible, yet omnipresent figure, as well as the removal of this so called "sin" from your life. I generally am of the opinion that I do not wish to be forgiven for my sins, as sinning is what I find most enjoyable in life, but I digress. I believe the low point of the religiously overzealous weekend occurred this morning. A second grader named Kelly, cute kid, took the microphone and proceeded to talk about some of the activities she was involved in within the church. Aww. She had the distinct lilt of a sorority pledge in the making. I was waiting expectantly for the "I mean, like, seriously, oh my God guys..." but it never came. I guess that was beyond her experience. What was NOT, however, beyond her experience was a detailed familiarity with Jesus, and, more accurately, the grisly details of his death. She stated that at one point during her Sunday School or whatever, she began to cry (cry!) because she was "so happy that Jesus was crucified for her sins." She said that she went home that night and "accepted Jesus Christ as her personal savior." I began to have flashbacks of the movie Jesus Camp. Call me crazy, but as a parent, I think that maybe I would prefer my seven year old not know what crucifixion entails. Would I show a second grader the curb-stomping scene from American History X? No. I would not. Would I highlight the important features of the Checlear video with a blow-by-blow account to a second grader? No. Of course not. But to explain the process of being beaten, whipped, stabbed, tortured and nailed to a block of wood is perfectly acceptable and encouraged as part of the educational repertoire for a girl of that age simply because, well, it's Jesus.

My other issue stems from the practice of thanking God. For what am I thanking Him? "For the good in my life" is essentially the message I have gotten from pondering that general question. Shall I thank God for my money? Or should I thank my parents for putting it aside for me, Fidelity for providing high growth funds, my job for paying me? Shall I thank God for having people that mean a great deal to me in my life? Rather, I believe that meeting the now love of my life in a Speech class or sparking the relationship I have with my hetero-life-mate in a Biology AP class (in which the teacher was an adamant atheist) were happily coincidental events. Shall I thank God for the food on my table? Or perhaps I'll thank the slaughterhouses for providing the meat, myself for my culinary expertise and Meijer for providing the market to purchase these goods.

All in all, I suppose what I'm driving at is this: although I feel religion can aptly serve as a comfort, I would encourage thinking for oneself. Embrace the unknown. Don't fear death, and allow this absence of fear to stem not from the promise of eternal life, but from simply the absence of fear. Do you really think you'll care when you're dead that you're dead? My guess would be no. Also, perhaps we should take more care in what we teach our children. Essentially, don't let religion blind you. Exercise your evolutionary powers contained in your pre-frontal cortex. Do not simply accept...question. It's funny how much you find that doesn't make sense. Don't just let it go. Come on people. We're better than this.