Secularism teaches us to be good here and now. I know nothing better than goodness…Secularism depends upon realities and demonstrations; and its end and aim is to make this world better every day—to do away with poverty and crime, and to cover the world with happy and contended homes.
-Robert Green Ingersoll
It’s funny, writing this stuff. Part of me wants so much to dislike churches, because I’m sure they’re wrong and actually detrimental to society. Another part of me appreciates the messages, the benefits, the people. I am of two minds on the issue of church. Last week, I was strongly on the bitter side, and the entry comes across as snide and narrow-minded. I stand by what I wrote, but I’m aware of its negative tone. This week I return to the other extreme. It’s a Presbyterian church I just can’t bring myself to dislike.
Just a touch of sentimentality here. It’s in my old neighborhood, and I had visited this church as a teen. There was a youth group that I was involved in, and I have some fond memories at this chuch. As I walked in, my reminiscing came to an end as I tried to figure out where the people were. It was an empty sanctuary.
I discovered a small group of people in the fellowship hall to the rear of the sanctuary. The pastor greeted me and explained that once a month they hold worship there because the sanctuary isn’t handicap accessible. This is the room I used go to on voting day. It’s an old building, the kind of thing that looks like it’s been added onto and remodeled time after time. So I took my seat in a cluttered hall, facing a stage with some rudimentary props on it. To my right was a kitchen of sorts, and above me was a walkway/balcony thing that led to the church office. The plaster above my head was chipped and cracked. No money for flat-screens here.
The people in it were about as motley as the room itself. It had your basic contingent of old white folks coupled with a healthy number of minority children. There was a guy in a bright orange hunting outfit, and the only person I recognized was the bartender from the neighborhood dive. Didn’t expect that. It was about halfway through the service when I realized there were no minority parents looking after all those kids, and I figure they must be from the children’s home across the street. Good to see the church reaching out to kids in need in the community. Not sure if indoctrinating them with lies about imaginary beings loving them is good or not. Yes, I suppose it’s uplifting to think that the difficulties they’ve had in their short lives—be it neglect, abuse, addiction, whatever—is part of some grand plan a creator has to ultimately redeem them, but if it’s not true, does it do more harm than good?
After a pleasant but uninspiring sermon about how we need to love one another, they had a moment for prayers. One woman prayed for peace and harmony in the Middle East, particularly in light of the revolutions taking place. She wanted to see realized the pastor’s message of loving one another in harmony. She spoke of her sympathy with the women in those countries, too often voiceless, and hoped that they could find greater equality in the changing world. Nice.
Warning: here comes the cynic. How many times have people asked God for peace in the Middle East? I figure millions of Christians have prayed for it nearly every Sunday morning for decades if not centuries. How many Muslims have prayed for it? How many Jews? And yet, it seems that for centuries that area has been doomed to endless violence, with no end in sight. Has god ignored all those prayers? Has he abandoned everyone who has ever prayed for peace there?
My takeaway is this: churches really can promote harmony on a micro-level. Just look at this morning’s eclectic group. A bartender, a bunch of disadvantaged kids, random hunting guy, and a cute bunch of little old ladies are hanging out in harmony. Cobbled together like the building itself, this small congregation hangs on despite a pretty tough world, and they spread the love. But Christianity has a harder time spreading the love on a macro scale. Sure, there’s mission work and charity and saving the unborn children and all that. But the world is more diverse than our little church congregation here. Religion insists upon its own truth at the exclusion of others. History proves God is a divisive force, and to dream of singing Kumbaya across the world under the paternal gaze of a returned prince of peace is laughable. Religion is the cause of the strife in the Middle East, or if not, certainly a major player. We cannot expect love of God to bring harmony to places that experience daily violence specifically because of disagreements over that God. (You will not find an atheist strapping a bomb to himself.)
So there is really nothing I dislike about this church. As I left, the pastor spoke earnestly to me about his desire to make the church work, and I could tell he was happy to see a new face. I hate that I got his hopes up, since I certainly don’t plan to go back. I feel so sympathetic towards them, in a way that reminds me of the very first church I visited for this project. But again, I must look at the root of the reason they are there: belief in a deity that defies common sense. They sit around in a room asking the air to help them spread peace and harmony. Can we spread the love without the church? Why not?
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