An Epiphany of a Whateverist

If you consider yourself a liberal (or even just liberal), you probably get some cynical, sophisticated amusement when someone says, “I’m a liberal, but . . .” knowing that something very illiberal and maybe illogical is coming next.  But the first time you hear yourself say it, it’s not so funny.

Regarding religion, I consider myself a “whateverist.”   Believe whatever you want; just don’t attack me for my beliefs and don’t feel I am attacking you if we disagree.  But recently, I have been hearing from Christian friends and reading articles by Christian authors that perhaps the Virgin Birth is a biological impossibility or that the Star of Bethlehem would have been in the sky anyway.  They say that these things aren’t the point of Christmas.

I was surprised, to say the least, at my reaction:  “I’m a religious liberal, but . . .”  The but is that while I may feel they are right, I don’t want to.  When I have doubts, belief in the truth of the Christmas story gives me something to hold on to.  I feel as if I am being personally attacked by people I like and people I don’t even know.  I want to say, “Do you know what you’re doing to me?  Not only are you upsetting me, but you’re putting my faith in jeopardy!  And I’m sure I’m not the only one.  So please keep your opinions to yourself, even if they’re right.”

Finding that I feel this way has not been pleasant (OK, it sucks.), but as Cartman and the boys on South Park say, “I’ve learned a lesson today.”  I understand how creationists (or people who don’t want the altar where I think it should be) can feel when evolutionists or whateverists disagree with them.  And I can’t expect even good friends not to feel that I’m trying to take something – something very important – away from them.

Being a believer is hard.  It takes work.  We need to support each other as much as we can, even if we don’t agree about what really amounts to details.

So even if I can’t always keep my opinions to myself, I will work to be more sympathetic.  We’re all trying to do the best we can.

 

Some Holiday Snark or A Biting Comment of Great Social and Political Import

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go.

All the beggars wear Santa hats.

And so do the dogs and the cats.

They look so very festive in the snow!

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

Everywhere you roam.

Take a look at the Dollar Store,

Overflowing once more

With cheesy junk to clutter up your home.

 

Some video games with disgusting names

Are the wishes of Dylan and Ben.

Slutty Barbie clothes and a ring for her nose

Are the hopes of Makenzi and Jen.

And Mom and Dad haven’t had any rest

Since they can’t remember when.

 

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.

How the bills pour in!

But you don’t have to be afraid;

By the time that you get them paid

Christmas comes again!

 

The Best Article About Christmas Stress -- Ever! (Well, not really, but I couldn’t resist.)

Do you feel that Christmas is a disruption in your life?  Are you overwhelmed by trying to provide the best Christmas possible?  How do you feel when you read an article or hear a discussion on a talk show telling you that you shouldn’t try to create the “perfect” Christmas?  And don’t forget all those movies about a burned out parent (usually Mom) who has a revelation and cries and berates herself for not seeing the meaning of Christmas.  Do you feel guilty because you would have been satisfied with just “real nice”?  Or are you shooting for perfect and feeling guilty not only for not making it but for even trying?

No matter where you turn, someone is saying something about the stress of Christmas.  I stopped reading articles about how to avoid stress, since reading them and trying to put them into action just took up time and led to more stress.

Maybe we just ought to accept that fact that we are going to strive for “the best Christmas ever,” no matter what we read or see on television and hear in church.

But I have a thought.

Christmas disrupts our lives, just as it has disrupted the world.  Mary and Joseph had their lives disrupted; so did the shepherds and wise men.  When we decide to follow Jesus, our lives are going to be changed and change is disruption.  It is a miraculous disruption.

But wouldn’t it be nice to find a little peace?

Maybe on the 26^th or the Saturday after Christmas, we can enjoy the leftovers, watch the DVD’s we got, and really read the Christmas cards and newsletters.  I’m going to keep the 26^th in mind tonight as I wrap presents and worry about whether everyone will like them.

Something Else to be Thankful For (Or I’m Just Saying.)

Besides Martha, another person we are supposed to see as a bad example is that Pharisee in Luke18:9-14, who was praying at the temple a short distance from a tax collector.  He thanked God that he was “not like other people—robbers, evildoers, adulterers—or even like this tax collector.”  He gave ten percent of his income and fasted twice a week.  And this was true.  The point of the story is not that the Pharisee was lying.  

The tax collector stood at the side, hung his head and beat his breast, saying, “God, have mercy on me, a sinner.”  The tax collector, because of his humility, “went home justified before God.”  When I heard this in Sunday School, I got the idea that the tax collector was a better person, even though he had probably been cheating those he collected from.  He was Good and the Pharisee was Bad.  I certainly did not want to grow up to be like the Pharisee.

This story is a good reminder that we must not get too full of ourselves and no matter what we do, we are all sinners.  The Pharisee should have acknowledged this.  But what is wrong with being grateful that you have had opportunities and been given gifts, both spiritual and material, that others haven’t?

I know that I am a sinner and in the eyes of God am no less of one than a drug dealer.  But I am still thankful that I am not a drug dealer.  I have been very blessed to come to know Jesus.  I’m glad my sinfulness does not involve standing on a drug corner in all weathers, worrying about being arrested or killed, and maybe realizing that I am destroying lives. 

So sue me.

But God, be merciful to me, a sinner!

Hide the candy canes! It’s the Advent Police!

When I was growing up, the Presbyterian Church did Advent well; I don’t remember them mentioning it.  We started singing carols about three weeks before Christmas (or, as the Episcopalians say, “Advent 2”), the decorations were up in the church the Sunday before Christmas in time for the Christmas pageant.  (I never got to be Mary, but one year, when they were trying to add relevance, I was the Teacher.  I got to wear my first pair of nylons and carried two of my mother’s old college books.  Along with the Doctor, Nurse, Family, etc., I walked up to the (live) Nativity scene and bowed.  There was a party afterwards with those three-flavored ice cream squares.)  On Christmas Eve, we had a beautiful candlelight service.

When I was church shopping years ago, I went to an Episcopal church on the Sunday before Christmas.  The only vaguely Christmassy part of the service was “Oh Come, Oh Come, Emmanuel.”  I didn’t go back for years.

The Episcopal Church sees Advent as a time of preparation, much like Lent.  No carols or decorations until Christmas Eve.  We can’t even say “Alleluia,” although some people forget, and everyone smiles.  We have our little rebellions, like wearing red or green and fussing at coffee hour.  (I wonder if priests discuss how their flocks are behaving.  My attitude would be, “Let them get it out of their systems, the little rascals.”)

I have to admit I have gotten used to Episcopalian Advent.  I still don’t know if I like it.  Maybe we need to have a place to escape from the worldly part of Christmas, at least for an hour a week.  Waiting is a spiritual experience.  Anyway, I’ve resigned myself that things aren’t going to change. 

I’ll wait in church, but not at home or even in the Parish Hall. 

There’s still half an hour until Advent starts.  One last “Alleluia.”