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Feb 17, 2010 - 06:53 AM |
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"Non-Denominational" or: "In Your Faith, Bitch." |
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I was running errands this afternoon, and while at the Target, I ran into a former coworker. She was the sign painter from our sister store but we very often collaborated in each other's presence.
Since Becky and I had not seen each other since approximately 2006, we spent some time catching up. I'm still with the store, though now pushing cold cuts instead of doing the signwork. She is now the lead graphic designer from a nearby church that calls itself "The Chapel" She is also a prominent member of the congregation and on several committees, which is presumably how she got a legitimate, paying job there.
Becky wasted no time in suggesting that I visit this church and see all the wonderful things they're doing. I had my run with religion already, and having witnessed some of the hypocrisy and double standards that seem to come prepackaged with faith, I've decided it's best for myself to go it alone. Not necessarily without spirituality, just without others telling me how to believe.
I politely explained this, saying that I don't feel comfortable with organized religion anymore. But the proselytizing didn't stop; I just hadn't had the proper exposure to a true church community! Again, no thanks.
Becky continued, trying to play the role of sympathizer by agreeing that many churches are plagued by lies, cover-ups and enormous gaps between what they practice and what they preach. But The Chapel was different! (Of course it was.) But the only way I could know this was to see for myself.
At this point, I realized that a very basic detail had been suspiciously omitted. I asked, what religion is this Chapel?
Becky's answer: "Non-denominational."
Non-denominational.
I don't know what anyone else on this earth thinks about that concept but it's quite dubious to me. What does that even mean? How can you practice what you tout to be a religious experience, yet proclaim no ties to anything smacking of faith? It would imply that they embrace people from all religious backgrounds, which is fine on the surface. But left at that, it just doesn't work. You can't have some people reciting Hail Marys as another group wanders around hoisting the Torah overhead, all the while a third group scuttles about in a corner, declaring jihads on everyone else in the room. You kind of need everybody focused upon a singular, group activity or else it's not really a church. It's more like the West Bank.
The only thing "non-denominational" truthfully implies is "No, we're not (insert religion here). Except that you cannot completely define yourself by what you're not. You have to eventually be something or else you don't exist. At the most minimalist dissection of the term, "non-denominational" is, by its own declaration as a religion, a denomination!
I fished for some further details but Becky was rather dodgy in her answers. I had a gut feeling at what I was dealing with but wanted to get her to admit to it, which proved nearly impossible. These people are evidently well-trained in avoiding questions that would lift the veil off their operation. She wouldn't tell me about the service. She instead repeatedly alluded to the strong sense of community, the excellent family services like daycare, and the numerous programs for reaching out to teens. I asked her who the head clergyman or woman was. She told me about the wonderful guest speakers they have several evenings per week, which was completely unrelated to my question.
So I came out and asked: "Are you born-again Christians?"
Her reply: "No."
"Then what are you?"
"Non-denominational."
"What deity do you worship?"
"God."
"Do you worship Jesus also?"
"Yes."
"Then you're Christians."
"No, we're not."
"Yes. You are."
"But it's not a Christian church."
"Do you follow a version of The Bible?"
"Yes."
"Sorry. Christians."
"We accept everybody. Jews. Muslims. Atheists. Anyone."
"So you all can worship God and Jesus."
"Well, sorta, but we're not strictly Christians."
"Are you like the Universal Unitarians?"
"No, they're different."
"Do you worship Allah?"
"No."
"Do you hold services in Yiddish?"
"No."
"Are you permitted to eat beef?"
"Well, yeah."
"Can you drink Pepsi?"
"I guess."
"So you praise only God and sometimes Jesus."
"Yes."
"Then you're Christians. Jesus is a Christian concept."
"Jesus was a Jew, you know."
"Jews don't worship Jesus. Look it up."
"Why do we have to assign ourselves a specific label to be a legitimate church?"
"Because I sense what you're after here. You're Christians in practice. You follow the Bible. You sing hymns about God. And very likely, you emphasize a renewal of commitment to God and maybe Jesus also. Like an awakening, or perhaps a rebirth. But you're well aware that the term "Born Again Christianity" carries with it a negative stigma for many. You don't want to be associated with their reputation for zealotry and aggressive recruitment efforts, so you give yourself a purposefully ambiguous label. It's vague and it forces the curious to come to you for clarification, allowing for the illusion that they brought themselves into the fold instead of you leaping on them with open claws the moment they appeared. But if you strip off the veil, I'd bet your church is very much like the Born-Again Christians because you refuse to admit to any specific doings that would indicate otherwise. You admit to specific Christian benchmarks, such as following the Bible. But if you were a more specific branch of Christianity, such as Methodists or Episcopalians, you'd be very much okay in stating so. This leaves, by process of elimination, neo-Christianity. Just because you won't use the term "Born-Again" doesn't mean you're not extremely similar in method. We weren't two minutes into conversation before you insisted that I visit your church, which is classically the first step toward indoctrination. I feel like it's a deception; you do as the Born-Agains but won't own up to it. And deception isn't a tactic I particularly appreciate in an organization that's built upon the precept of morality."
After my little monologue, Becky's face grew red and half twisted. I knew I had her, though she'd never admit as much. She yelled at me, accusing me of becoming cruel and bitter, which may be slightly true when it comes to religion but does not necessarily make me wrong. Becky defended herself in the typical way that a defeated proselytizer does: by announcing that she only had my best interests in mind and that it was rude to so smugly break down her faith - incorrectly, she might add - when she was only trying to enrich my life; if anyone needed Jesus in their life, it was me.
I'd reached my limit. Becky was pleasant enough four years ago and we never, ever had a discussion of any religious or spiritual nature that lasted more than fifteen seconds. But four years is more than plenty enough time for a person to become forever entangled with any organization that programs its members. I would've been far less bothered (but still bothered) if she had tried to sell me Amway products. I mean, you can at least use Amway products ... I think.
Becky, sensing my disinterest in conversing any further, tried to get in one last comment, a mix between a barb and a self-pat on the back.
"It's sad that you're so closed minded, Al. I gave those people a chance and it completely changed my life."
"I'm sorry for your loss." I said, and walked away.
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