On Religion (with footnotes by Eddie Izzard)

I've wanted to write a post about religion for months now, but it just seemed like such a daunting task that I kept putting it off. The subject keeps popping up, though, so I've been thinking about it a lot. I thought I'd try to muddle through my thoughts here in the hope of creating a reasonably concise "thanks but no thanks" response to any would-be suitors.

I grew up in the Bible Belt. The biggest church in town was the Baptist church, and most everyone I knew went there. There was no Episcopal church, so I church hopped just to hang out with my friends more. None of my friends had ever heard of Episcopalians. People thought we were Catholic for awhile, and most of them thought Catholics were going to hell for "worshipping Mary." I had exactly one Jewish friend in high school. I don't think any Muslim or Buddhist or Hindu kids ever crossed the threshold. (At our last reunion, someone from my high school said she hopes "people like that never come here.") Before and after most sporting events, the coach would make the players pray to Jesus. When I was around twelve, I was told by a minister that my soul was at risk because I had not been properly baptized and that I should be baptized again in--you guessed it--the Baptist church. People used their "faith in Jesus" as a crutch to support all kinds of things, from getting drunk to gossiping to being judgmental and cruel. Because all they had to do was ask for forgiveness and their sins were "washed away."

My favorite example of what Christianity meant to the folks in my hometown occurred when I was a teenager and participated in a Church youth group. We had been preached to over and over again about the importance of remaining chaste. (Abstinence only!) It was also hinted at repeatedly that if we were to slip up and get pregnant, the right thing to do was get married and raise that baby. Under no circumstances whatsoever should abortion be considered, because abortion is murder and murder a sin, and that forgiveness thing only applies to certain sins, you see. Anyway, one of the young couples in our youth group got pregnant. They decided to get married and raise that baby. We knew their families weren't wealthy, so we kids decided we should have a baby shower to help them get started. We were told that no, we could not be permitted to throw them a shower because that would be condoning their sinful behavior. (Because apparently we kids were stupid enough to think, "Hey! If we get pregnant people will give us stuff! Let's go for it!") I probably don't need to explain to you that this was the exact opposite of what I felt like Christianity was supposed to be about. In fact, a lot of the stuff people said and did in the name of Jesus in that town had nothing to do with Jesus. It had to do with status in the community, with vanity, with selfishness, with hate and judgment. Whenever a newcomer came to town, the local churches would vie for their business like used car salesmen. When people said, "We missed you at church last Sunday," it most often was not because they really wanted to see you. It was because they wanted everyone around to know they had been at church and you hadn't.

So for years I gave up on Christianity all together. I remained obsessed with religion and churches, though, so I studied religious art and architecture in college and graduate school. I became enamored with Celtic Christianity and Catholicism. I traveled through Europe a few times and saw countless beautiful churches. And then we moved to New York. Not only was there an Episcopal church eight blocks away, but it was a beautiful Gothic cathedral--the largest in the world. The building itself was inspirational, but so was the mission and the people. They believed in evolution and dinosaurs. They had an AIDS memorial and supported equal rights for gays. They had a homeless shelter and soup kitchen. They offered services in Spanish. They hosted all sorts of performances and exhibitions. They had a high-wire artist-in-residence. They held annual blessings for bikes and animals. They believed in peace and caring for the earth. But most importantly, they welcomed people of all faiths. In fact, their founding mission was and is to be "a house of prayer for all people," and who could argue with that?

My main problem with Christianity is Jesus. I thought I was the only one who had this problem, but there are more of us than you might think. I don't believe he was born of a virgin. I don't believe he is the path to salvation because I don't believe in hell, and I'm awfully unsure of heaven. I don't believe he was resurrected. I don't even believe he was The Only Son of God. (Blasphe-me! Blasphe-you!) But I do believe he existed, and I believe he was a revolutionary leader who inspired many people. I believe strongly in love, and that is what I choose to take as his central message. And this is why I had so many problems with the brand of Christianity many of the folks in my hometown practiced. It had very little to do with love and everything to do with feeling superior to others.

So basically I see Jesus as a political figure. And I like his politics enough that I've decided to become a supporter, to contribute to the campaign. I choose to participate in this particular religion because it's already part of my history, because there's a comfort in saying the same creeds every single week just like countless people have done before me. But I love religion as a whole. The evolution of the various religions, their places in people's lives, the way they provide structure and comfort to communities...it's wonderful. Religion is a way of filling in the gaps, of making us feel better about things we don't understand. Religion is not really based on facts or some universal truth, and I'm okay with that.

For the most part, I don't much care what other people believe unless they attempt to use their religious beliefs to assert superiority over others or perpetuate hateful attitudes. I don't think religion is necessary to convey morals. I think most people can learn right from wrong without ever setting foot in a church. Actually, the kindest, most generous, respectable people I've known were not Christians. Some of the meanest people I've ever met were.

Lately, I keep coming into contact with people--some of whom used to be friends--who are concerned about my "salvation," who insist they have found Truth with a capital "T." They say things like Obama is the anti-Christ, that our interest in adopting internationally or living abroad is the result of temptation by Satan, that "real Christians" can't support equal rights for gays, that our refusal to accept the Bible as the final word means we're going to hell, and all sorts of other crazy things. (My favorite so far was being compared to a cat who likes to drink antifreeze. It tastes good, but it's slowly killing me.) These people who are prideful enough to think they've picked the only right way upset and annoy me, especially when they damn me and claim to be my friend in the same breath. It seems contrived and conceited, and it's especially insulting to be treated as though I'm incapable of finding my own path. And if there's any danger to be found when it comes to religion, it seems to me to come from believing so strongly in your way of doing things that you are comfortable going around judging others under the guise of "sharing the Good News." (The Good News often being that the person sharing it is going to heaven, and you are going to hell for all eternity.) If you really believe in heaven and hell and God and Jesus, shouldn't you mind your own business and leave salvation and judgment to someone with better credentials than you have? Perhaps someone who created the universe? Or focus your energy on providing homes for the homeless and food for the poor and support to the oppressed? Just a thought. At the very least, recognize that your beliefs are yours and that the best way to show others that these beliefs have worked for you is to be a kind, generous, thoughtful, good, confident, and happy person.

So I wrote this post so next time someone harasses me about my religious beliefs I can send it to them and tell them to bugger off. I spent most of my life listening to your dogma. If I've got to believe what you believe to get into heaven, consider me a lost cause. I'd rather go to hell. At least there I'll be in good company.



P.S. If you didn't click on the links, you should. They're the best part of this whole essay.

P.P.S. I'm writing this on Sunday morning. That's right. When I should be in church. But it's 60 degrees out and sunny, so I plan to go on a bike ride and worship in the church of the outdoors.