"For those who care and I understand if you don't: Today I quit being a Christian. I'm out. I remain committed to Christ as always but not to being 'Christian' or to being part of Christianity. It's simply impossible for me to 'belong' to this quarrelsome, hostile, disputatious, and deservedly infamous group. For ten years, I've tried. I've failed. I'm an outsider. My conscience will allow nothing else."
~novelist Anne Rice, from her Facebook page
I've been mulling over her announcement for awhile now, letting it sink in, letting myself contemplate her words and intentions. And all I can say is, "Wow. I get it."
I've been an outsider for more than 30 years. I've tried to quit Christianity on many, many occasions only to be inexplicably drawn back as though there is an invisible cord spinning and twirling, reintroducing me to the Holy again and again. This thread of faith has ensnared me and I just don't know how to unentangle myself, no matter how desperately I try.
And, believe me, I try.
Born the lesbian daughter of a Southern Baptist preacher, I've been trying all my life. I've heard it all, and then some. I've felt the bruises, the paper cuts, the roundhouse punches and the slow crushing contempt of organized religion for me and for my outsider brothers and sisters.
And that's why, when reading about Ms. Rice's decision, I have experienced both elation and devastation. I so deeply understand the frustration that comes with this label called "Christianity" and how so much of who I am as a human being is seen as unfinished or unacceptable through this lens. But, at the same time, I can't help but know in my soul that I am a powerful agent in this mysterious thing called faith and in the perpetuation and change of Christianity's direction and in it's legacy for the future.
Damn it. . . it would be so much easier just to walk away. And God knows I've tried.
Perhaps what continues to bring me back, to bind me to God in community with others, even though it's hard and often seems so exhausting is this little bit of the Gospel of John – "By this all will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another."
That little verse makes Christianity quantifiable. If you are a disciple, then you love. Period. End of story. This little verse gives me all the permission I need to ignore the hate. And it gives me to power to pray for the bigots and those who try to co-opt God for their own moral and political agendas.
I'm slowly coming to believe that word "Christian" is meaningless in and of itself, unless it is found to be in tandem with love. Love that is measurable. Love that is kind. . .
Love that does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres. Love never fails. But where there are prophecies, they will cease; where there are tongues, they will be stilled; where there is knowledge, it will pass away. For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me. Now we see but a poor reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I am fully known.
And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.
~ I Corinthians 13:4-13
5 comments:
I GET it, too. You can't walk away or I would have nobody to remind me what I keep walking away FROM...lol
Heavy, heavy stuff. I'm really struggling myself just now and you're hearing this from one who got drunk on the kool aid. On old gentleman told me once the more times you read the Bible from cover to cover the more liberal you become. It's true . . . at least for me. The only place I get solace at the present is at Our Lady of Consolation in Carey. I'm not Catholic and I don't go to Mass there but I do often borrow the peace and quiet. There is something mystical to me when I contemplate all the petitions that have gone up from there and the expectation of miracles. I light a candle and create my own little denomination of one . . . it's the best I can do for now. I hope HE understands.
I'm sure SHE does! =) I totally understand where you're coming from as well. l draw a whole bunch of my own spiritual practice from Buddhism, mostly because it speaks to my quiet center and is respectful of all life, points of view and manifestations. I also think it meshes quite nicely with what Christianity could be. . .but perhaps that's just me justifying myself!
There is a Buddhist sangha that meets on Sunday mornings in Toledo. I've been several times. If you want more info, I can get it to you!
PS - I also TRULY believe that God appreciates our struggles and the ways we grapple with our faith. I believe it reveals so much more about us and that we are continuing to grow, instead of stagnating in a pew somewhere doing what we've always done. . .
When I told my story to my new priest the other day, I found myself saying over and over, "I wanted to walk away. I wanted to WANT to walk away. And I just couldn't." He called it courage. I'm still not sure.
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