YouTuber 1938Superman made a video titled Milgram Religion. The video is about 25 minutes long. He makes a lot of points within that time, but there was one I wanted to really focus on here.

1938Superman:

I put it out as plainly as I could. Your religious views are yours. Other people who don’t believe what you believe shouldn’t be subject to them. That’s most of the reason your religious views shouldn’t be involved in making laws, because your religious views govern the people that believe that religion, while the laws are supposed to govern everybody. And you wouldn’t find it very favorable if someone who had different religious views than you was having their religion infused into the laws and you had to follow the philosophies and rules and laws of their religion or you’d be arrested. By our own legal process you would be forced to follow them. You wouldn’t like that.

I wonder if this mentality doesn’t hark back to times when we didn’t have the kind of racial and religious diversity we see today. Times when a ruling monarch actually did set the religious standards and they were enforceable in this way, that there was this meshing of religion, law and power. I imagine in some special instances – say, Vatican City, for example – that this is probably still the case.

I am always slightly bemused when people tell me “Australia is a Christian country.” Even if you resist the urge to take this literally, to think that this piece of dirt has a religion (and that it has nothing to do with Aboriginal mysticism), it is usually cited as an excuse to enforce a kind of social norm. And, actually, we see this all the time in Australia, even in more secular pursuits. The Melbourne Cup, for example. If you don’t place a bet on this celebrated horse racing event or have a drink on this day, you’re clearly “UnAustralian.” (Never mind the terrible social consequences such an attitude might have on those suffering from gambling addictions and alcoholism.) You’ll be harassed if you don’t participate in this ritual, but you won’t be arrested – and that’s kind of the point, I think.

This is what is at the heart of the separation of church and state, this understanding that certain things apply to certain people in certain contexts. And religion is tribal, religion is ‘opt-in’. You are initiated into a tradition in one fashion or another. You choose to do certain specific things and identify as part of a specific group. Other people identify with other traditions and participate in other rituals.

I think Rabbi Jeremy Lawrence, talking to Rachel Kohn on The Spirit of Things, makes this point well.

Rabbi Jeremy Lawrence:

As Rebecca was saying before, you say a certain food isn’t allowed and it creates some kind of desire. Within the Torah we’re given a whole slew of animals, many of which are not readily accessible, but others which are, like a pig or a camel, that we’re not allowed to eat, and meat with milk that we’re not allowed to eat.

On the verse that I referred to before, it says you should be holy, and that meant you should separate, so Nachmanides says if you’re walking past a butcher’s shop and you see this huge pig hanging up there, you’re not supposed to say ‘How revolting, how terrible, how could people eat such things?’ You’re supposed to say, that you know, ‘This is food and God has provided in the world, but it’s not for me to eat’ and I’ve got a measure of self-censorship in that.

Here eating pork is not in and of itself a bad thing necessarily, those keeping Kosher are motivated by the commitment they made within their tradition. You’ll note the expression “self-censorship” here. You could perhaps argue that the act of consuming certain foods and not others here is of less importance than the commitment to the tradition that the act represents.

I understand that proponents of specific religious traditions may wish that everyone should embrace their particular tradition. (Many of the world’s religions are deeply rooted in proselytizing traditions.) Though such a push would result in less authenicity among religious practitioners because to participate authentically within religion requires faith and commitment.

I’m reminded of the remark of Twitter user @NZAfro:

I hate it when people say they pray for me. I ask them not to! I’m atheist, that’s like eating a chicken to help a vegetarian!

Happy Sunday!

Today’s message me wonder. It read:

Silence is often misinterpreted but it is never misquoted.

The links between the other messages and Christianity seemed obvious. This one had me slightly baffled. You can never misquote Jesus’ silence? Something about the church’s response to systematic sexual abuse within the clergy? Perhaps the local Presbyterian church reached a conclusion similar to that of my friend Daniel. He ultimately decided that God answered prayers in the same way a piece of cheese did. Of course I’m being silly. God answers all prayers it is just that sometimes the answer is no… or [the sound of crickets chirping]

One group of people who will not go quietly however are New South Wales HSC students. Religion students are crying foul at one of questions that appeared on their final exam, which apparently baffled many students and reduced some to tears.

The thing that interested me though was the subject matter of the offending question. According to ABC News online:

She [McAuley Catholic College student Lauren Priest] says the question began with a quote and then asked students to assess, in relation to the quote, how Christianity is a living religious tradition in the life of its adherents.

Call me a conspiracy theorist if you must, but has the Department of Education done a deal with the Bible Society? It seems interesting that such a question should coincide with the Bible Society’s “Jesus: All About Life” campaign.

I don’t know what this quote was, or who was quoted. I’m not even familiar with the curriculum for this subject. But, wow, if students at a Catholic College can’t make a case for Christianity as a living religious tradition… that’s kind of “interesting” – don’t you think?

Happy Sunday!

I looked at her thoughtfully for a moment and said, “Well, at least the ones that believe in Jesus.”

But the general idea and hope is to produce dialogue among those faiths that incorporate Jesus as a central figure – Catholicism, Christianity (various denominations) and Judaism, I suppose.

Daniel Willis, CEO of The Bible Society, talking to Rachel Kohn on The Spirit of Things:

Well I’m saying people don’t know what Jesus said and here is the opportunity, in this campaign, to put out there the actual words that Jesus said. Because when you look at what Jesus said you find he’s actually a very radical person. He was counter-cultural. [...] So what we’ve ended up with I think over the centuries is the message of Jesus being clouded by movies, by what other people have said, by what the church has added to it. And when you get back to what Jesus said it actually makes sense and it under girts the values we all want.

This was a major stumbling block for me. I am not a biblical scholar but I am reasonably convinced Jesus never said anything to the effect of ‘the shetland pony was an absolute cinch’ (as he does in a Jesus: All About Life radio ad). Whether you treat the Bible as literal truth, as allegory or as fiction, it is important to appreciate the distinction between ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ (an invitation to speculate) and ‘What Did Jesus Do?’ (as recorded within these texts). That Willis freely acknowledges that without a understanding of the Bible many artistic, literary and pop culture references are lost on individuals while feeling he has license to further cloud ‘the message of Jesus’ within the context of this campaign is perplexing. But it seems to be a broader trend within Christian traditions, one that sees this kind of embellishment as permissable if it exists within a generally accepted narrative and understanding of Jesus.

And even the tagline ‘All About Life’ is open to interpretation. In what ways is Jesus ‘All About Life’? Does Jesus’ supposed relevance to life relate to him as a historical figure, as the key to ‘salvation’ in the Christian tradition, as a ‘personal’ figure? If you accept the idea of a ‘personal Jesus’ over a historical one, suddenly the popular tendency towards speculation and embellishment makes perfect sense.

Writer and former religious reporter, Tom Harpur:

I can’t prove to anyone Jesus Christ or Muhhammad or whomever never existed. And in one sense, it doesn’t really matter because the average Christian has a mythical Christ that they’re talking about anyway. You take ten people coming out of a service anywhere on a Sunday and ask them what their picture of Jesus is. And you’ll find it is not exactly something that can be replicated because everybody has their own personal Jesus. This is a creation of the religious imagination. Not that they have been brainwashed, but taught, or however you want to put it by a religious tradition into thinking a certain way about it. But I mean, Christ in you, Paul says. How can a historical person be in you? I fail to understand.

I don’t have a personal Jesus. Like Harpur, I struggle with the historical Jesus. And I wonder what the ‘word of Jesus’ might do for me, as a non-believer, that modern morality cannot? Perhaps the emphasis on Jesus (as opposed to God) is about highlighting the New Testament in favour of the Old Testament (with its burnt offerings and slavery). I once suggested that the Harry Potter books had as much to say about life as the Bible did. I was being flippant at the time, but there is a great truth here. Any compelling work of literature encapsulates themes and ideas that relate to life and morality and personal and societal values. Modern texts have a modern frame of reference and perhaps a greater understanding of the complexity of modern life, as well as a broader sense of community values. Certainly the bible’s relationship with women, homosexuals, slavery and human sacrifice is a far cry from modern day morality. And at the point where you selectively embrace teachings of Jesus have you not in effect elected a ‘personal Jesus’ over a historical one?

And why Jesus, why not God? I mean it’s all well and good to say this is not about ‘the church’ and rather about Jesus but there is clearly a proselytising element to this campaign.

Happy Sunday!

But I’ve noticed that I keep asking questions about these things, not because I am particularly interested in knowing the answers but rather because I’m trying to get inside other people’s heads. I’m trying to engage them in their process – not the artistic process that I seem to be forever talking about, but their thought process.

One of the things that really intrigued me when I started listening to people talk about their religious beliefs was how they would (for want of a better expression) ‘cherrypick’ from different traditions. This was really apparent in self-help literature, the likes of Wayne Dyer would dedicate entire tomes to collecting and meditating upon the virtues and teachings of various spiritual figures. Some religions, notably the Bahá’í Faith, seem to try very purposefully to emulsify a lot of different traditions. But in individuals it seems to happen much more organically. An individual who was brought up as an Episcopalian might come to draw heavily upon Sufi mysticism for inspiration.

But even those who identify themselves categorically as being a proponent of one religion seem to emphasise certain teachings over others, certain books over others, certain passages over others. This surprised me, though I don’t know why it surprised me. Maybe now would be a good time to try and deconstruct my own thought process on this subject.

I think one of the things people need to appreciate is that my experience of God is that I don’t have an experience of God. I can’t trace back to a particular time when that energy, that entity, was made known to me in any way that wasn’t purely intellectual. Certainly I’ve heard a lot about God, but I haven’t had any visceral emotional experience that I would associate with that idea. I haven’t been blinded in the desert, regaining my sight later; hell I haven’t even felt transcendent singing a hymn. I guess to the extent that I haven’t had this experience – and I don’t know how to cultivate this experience – I figure my whole understanding of God would be completely dependent on religious texts. (I guess I forget that other people have had these experiences.)

The other thing to note is that religion has a history of creating splinter groups anyway. This is why we have denominations in the first place. People who might agree in principle that God exists and that Jesus existed, and was in some way related to God, don’t necessarily agree on other things. Indeed these differences are considered significant enough to form separate groups. And I guess that is the crux of what I am wondering… how do you negotiate between these things? A friend assures me that the Bible has a lot to offer the world and that might be true. But which parts? Which things do you embrace and which things do you relinquish as being more relevant in another time or another context? Which things do you take literally and which do you decide are parables and metaphors? Does the bit about loving your neighbour take precedence over the tips for dealing with your slaves? How do you arrive at this hierarchy of understanding?

This one passage in Revelations stuck in my head after Julia Sweeney alluded to it in Letting Go Of God. I asked two Christians about the passage independently and was a little bemused that they both gave identical responses. “Isn’t that a Jehovah’s Witness thing?” they responded. A third party assured me that the passage made more sense ‘in context.’ The passage itself seemed baffling to me, but honestly the passage didn’t intrigue me nearly as much the response to the passage. What made people convinced it was a ‘Jehovah’s Witness’ thing? It came from the same religious text they were using, but it was filtered in such a different way… and in a way that was somehow understood by two people who described themselves in the same basic way but who had never met or discussed the notion.

I guess I’ve just come to realise that any religious understandings are remarkably complex and nuanced. And I’ve never actually had that be conveyed to me from anyone before. I do wonder why.

EDIT: What appears above was written several weeks ago. I actually have since had the good fortune to hear a talk given by the former Bishop of Edinburgh Richard Holloway at the Sydney Writers’ Festival (albeit in podcast form, some time later). Mr. Holloway is a fascinating individual, I hope to be able to read some of his work in the future. I found his Shaking The Kaleidoscope talk very comforting on a lot of different levels, but mostly I found it illuminating on this particular subject. His talk offered a framework for religious belief that helped me contextualise some of the thoughts I’ve articulated above. I’d love to pontificate on his talk and perhaps I will at another time, but it really helped me immensely.

• Sesame Street Podcast
• Money, Mission and Meaning: Passion at Work, Purpose at Play
• “The Hunger for Depth and Meaning” Talks on Christian Meditation
• Compass (ABC TV)
• The Meaning of Life… dougnuts
• Don’t Waste Your Life (Desiring God)
• Inside CNET Labs
• CAG Foreplay
• APM: Speaking of Faith with Krista Tippett
• Meaning of Words on The Moncriesff Show on Newstalk 106-108 FM
• Living Dialogues: Thought-Leaders in Transforming Ourselves…
• Purpose-Centered Life: A Plan for Authentic Living
• Merriam-Webster’s Word of the Day
• Prayer at Rumayla: A Novel of the Gulf War
• Mysticism, Meaning and Life: Classic Sinai Podcast (Judaism)
• Inner Perspectives: Guideposts for the Spiritual Journey
• Free Talk Live (News & Politics)
• whollyscrap’s Podcast (TV & Film)
• Birth Download (Health)
• The Secret Beyond “The Law of Attraction”
• Shaman Drums, The Rhythm and Sound of Healing
• Afternoon Thoughts from IamACIM.com (A Course In Miracles)
• Tajweedpodcast’s Podcast (Islam)
• The New Man: Beyond The Macho Jerk
• The Meeting House Videocast (Christianity)
• A Course in Miracles (ACIM) – Truly ‘Extreme’ Spirituality
• Jabez: Conceived in Pain, Delivery in Victory (Literature)

The first page of podcast search results in the iTunes directory for the word ‘meaning.’ I guess best summarised as below.

• Literary/linguistic/educational/scientific meaning;
• Religious/spiritual/metaphysical/self-help/self-improvement ‘meaning’;

In short, the meanings we derive from things in our environment and the meanings we attribute to ourselves. And I suppose if I am being honest it is the latter that prompted the search in the first place. I’m sure you’re about as sick of hearing me bang on about this in this humble blog as I am sick of hitting my head against the table or the writing the wall. One of those… I forget which.

I guess what I’ve been wondering lately is… why do I even care? If this is all there is (and there’s a good chance it is), why should that bother me? If anything it is practically permission to go out and be completely hedonistic. Why not ‘live it up’ while we are indeed alive? I haven’t even studied philosophy at university, I don’t even have the academia to back up this kind of existential angst. Though perhaps therein lies the folly. Perhaps had I bothered studying philosophy I would have some sort of framework with which to hold these nagging feelings at bay.

However I feel as though I have plateaued. My whole philosophy and belief system has crystallised in recent times and I feel that when I write about religion now it isn’t so much to explore so much as reiterate. So I would like to include a brief overview of my own understandings here and now for your benefit as much as mine and until the desire strikes me again I think I shall retire the religiously themed blog entries.

My Religious Manifesto

• There may or may not be a God, but if he/she/it exists, he/she/it doesn’t appear to communicate directly with humans.


• Because of this lack of deity-to-individual communication religion relies heavily on religious texts. These texts are archaic examples of ‘inspired literature’ that often have no obvious correlation with modern life. Interpretation and embellishment of such texts has understandably become a theological art.


• An individual’s religious understandings are shaped primarily by their own conception of their deity and associated religious figures. If you start out with the presumption that ‘God is good’ this will influence how you approach questions such as ‘Why do bad things happen to good people?’ and ‘Does God love me?’ The same is true if you started out with the presumption that ‘God is vengeful.’


• The question ‘What Would Jesus Do?’ is an invitation to speculate. Another theological art, perhaps? We do not know what Jesus would do. Even if treated exclusively as a literary character his behaviour is somewhat erratic. He is just as likely to be the ‘Prince of Peace’ as he is to condemn a Fig tree.


• Religions often reflect the values and expectations of the time in which their respective religious texts were conceived in, but not always. This is a difficult thing to resolve. Slavery is now illegal, however the bible not only endorsed the idea but provided helpful tips for dealing with your slaves. Discrimination is illegal in a lot of places but most religions are completely incompatible with and intolerant of other religions. Because one religion is the ‘true’ one, all others are wrong; because one idol is the ‘true’ one, all others are false idols. Homosexuality is no longer illegal in many countries, though still a sin and a ‘threat’ in many traditions. How does an individual negiotate this hierarchy of authority? Who gets top billing?


• Until very recently your personal religion was often determined by your family’s religion which was determined by your nationality and your geography. When we were entrenched in our own local geography (we didn’t travel or communicate with those of other nationalities) organised religion served a very useful social function. It was a normalising instrument. If you were born in Afghanistan you were probably Islamic. If you were born in Brazil you were probably Christian. If you were born in Vietnam you were probably a Buddhist. If you operate from the presumption that your religion is the only true one, isn’t that a new strange form of racism? And do you truly believe your deity would say, “Oh, we like the British, the Americans and the Australians, we’ll make them Christian. Not so crazy about the Japanese…”?


• I am not suggesting anyone should have to give up their religion. Quite the contrary, I wholeheartedly believe everyone should be able to believe and practice what they feel is ultimately true for them. I would however ask that all people be sensitive and aware of the issues that surround their personal religion and religion in general. I would hope that we can cultivate a respect of all of humanity and a desire to operate in ways that benefit the social good of all, not merely those that share our same outlook. I believe in defending religious freedoms, but I emphasise that your ability to oppress other people (because you think they are wrong or sinful) is not a religious freedom.

I used to think the central flaw of religion was that it was discriminating and exclusive, though I’ve come to believe the real problem is that it is unchanging. We hear a lot about waning church participation numbers and attempts to encourage additions to congregations through charismatic performances and multimedia installations, but at its core the general lore of religion doesn’t change. And in a lot of ways, short of a visit from a deity or religious figure (say, a ‘second coming’ of Jesus), it really cannot change. All it has to work with is its remarkably old and confusing religious texts and its people’s attempts to make sense of those texts. I cannot think of another area of life that is still being governed today by the information and understanding we had several thousand years ago. Imagine if we decided to shun modern day medical procedures in favour of whatever the popular cure of the day had been back then (probably death, leeches, or some sort of human sacrifice)? As people we have grown and changed. Our world is different. Our religious texts haven’t grown and changed with us. I suppose for Biblical Fundamentalists that is desirable.

I just desire to work with what I know to be true, rather than merely what I hope to be true. I know the reality of my fellow man. I know the reality of the environment I live in. I know the reality of the technology with which I am sharing this message. It just makes more sense to me to deal with what is here and in front of me.

Somebody asked me a really innocent question recently. At the time I sort of smiled politely and gave an official-sounding somewhat defensive response. Our conversation ended and we went our separate ways. And suddenly I was filled with such resentment and anger. How dare they ask such a question?! What are they insinuating?! Were they just trying to bait me?!

I lost sleep over it at the time. I sent this person a handful of lines expressing my anger. The particular technology I employed allowed me to delete those same lines the next day before they were viewed by the recipient. The truth was by this stage I was beginning to understand why I was so angry and it had surprisingly little to do with the question or the person who asked it or even the person the question pertained to. It did have a lot to do with my fears and a few negative experiences from my past. And the more I thought about it the more I had to admit that there were a few negative experiences that I haven’t made peace with.

I came clean with the person who posed the question. I told them pretty much everything. I admitted that I had a fear that people were making really unkind assumptions about me based on a little information and a lot of prejudice. And the experience that kept coming to mind was not the most offensive demonstration of a particular prejudice but it was the one that affected me the most. It was a very long time ago in the scheme of things. The person who said those things and I talked extensively about it the time. It should be water under the proverbial bridge. But as I told the person who posed the question, ‘It happened a lifetime ago but it still burns like it happened thirty seconds ago.’

But what does this mean? I mean, the person who said the things that are etched into my brain weren’t addressing me individually, they were just expressing a theological disposition they had. They were quite upset that I had been hurt by the remarks. They went to great lengths to discuss what they meant exclusively for my benefit. They meant me no harm then and they still do not. Even at the time random third parties were talking to me on the sidelines seemingly dumbfounded at the problems I had with the content. This did my head in, actually. I felt blindsighted. I didn’t see this coming and then BAM! There it was. This diatribe about some aspect of my being. And I wonder, who else feels this way? How many other people are smiling and talking to me and then going home and thinking these sorts of things about me and other people I care about?!

Wild insecure baseless speculations aside, I don’t expect a lot of people I consider friends do actually share these opinions. At least, intellectually. There are still moments when I seem to lash out at people and exclaim things like, “But, of course, THIS is what you really mean… right?!” I guess I’m just scared. I learnt that a lot of people were actually quite fickle and I decided to be as open and transparent as I could be at the start of a relationship so if it was a problem it would at least be a problem before I felt emotionally invested. I just want to know the people who are around me are people who love me and will support me. Is that so much to ask? Probably not. And yet that is only part of the overall equation. It isn’t just about having these people in your corner, it’s also about choosing to believe that they are in your corner. This is the other dimension of faith; the part that doesn’t relate to the paranormal or the religious. It is the collection of smaller assumptions you embrace about your daily life. Its choosing to believe that if you drive on a road that the cars going in the opposite direction will stick to their side of the road. Its choosing to believe that if you leave your home today that an acorn or the sky or an atomic bomb won’t fall on your head. Because at the moment I am not being critcised or chastized by my friends, I am just plagued by this anxiety that it could happen. I am waiting for some unseen axe to drop.

And this is actually something the new age and self-help literature understands quite well. You choose to believe good things will happen not because they necessarily will (you’re probably not clairvoyant) but because this will have a bearing on how you feel, and this will in turn affect how you act. You make different choices when you’re feeling optimistic than you do when you’re feeling anxious. You react differently. You are more resourceful.

So this is something I have to work on. It is something that I am working on. I thank you all for your patience and support and love.

There are few things in life I would leave to the clergy… Perhaps if you explained this situation to the zealots of the world, that in fact it [marriage] is an opportunity to screw people who love each other out of money rather than (merely) a case of taunting their deity… perhaps they would understand. Infact, I daresay, they may welcome the stance with some kind of special “sinner’s surcharge” for those dirty civil unionists.

Having heterosexual people telling homosexual people how to live is a bit like a woman foregoing her appointment with her gynecologist to instead solicit advice from a plumber.

If anyone thinks same-sex marriage is wrong, I wholeheartedly encourage them to not marry someone of their own gender. And in the meanwhile they can enjoy this cup of “SHUT THE FUCK UP!” with my compliments.

Now imagine a more secular world. Imagine moves to separate church and state. Imagine networks of information offering religious educations beyond that which was traditionally courted by your geography. Suddenly people are opting out of religion. It makes perfect sense that they should up the ante! This is surely why we’re seeing such rhetoric.

Louise Hay remarked during a speech on Change and Transition (available on iTunes):

You know, religions have a tendency to separate us. And religions often tell us who to love and how to love them and who’s lovable and who isn’t.

And yet, somehow, so many of the parameters of life are being dictated to me and many people I care about. Oddly still so much of it appears to be originating from within religious traditions we do not subscribe to and belief systems that we opted out of. Does that not strike anyone else as being odd? There are serious legal ramifications for purveyors of SPAM E-mail. Why should we humour this religious intrusion any more than we humour this electronic intrusion? There is all manner of anti-discrimination legislature. Nobody would put up with anti-semitic proclaimations – and nor should they! Why are we so permissive of the kind of abuse leveled at homosexuals?

What I would really like to see is a kind of ethical practice of religiosity, where certain fundamental human values take precedent over the nuances of traditions and passages. (Both of which are fraught with translation and interpretation dangers.)

Wish as I might in this Utopian moment, I doubt it will really take off. There are a number of reasons for this.

Ethical Religiosity infers a degree of introspection. Instead of looking outside to see how the world does or does not reflect your religious traditions, you instead turn your attention to yourself and how you reflect the ideals and expectations of your tradition. You should be more concerned with your own actions than the actions of your neighbours. Introspection of any kind is very difficult for many people. For many people it is easier to judge than to take stock. You are not responsible for all of humanity, however you are responsible for yourself. (This means shelving your aspirations of martyrdom, too. Sorry.)

The other major problem, at least as I see it, is that traditions require certain things to continue to exist. They need believers, they need subscribers, they need practitioners. Self-preservation (as much as the true believer’s concern for your immortal soul) is a major motivation for proselytising traditions within religion. Ethical Religiosity would contain an implicit understanding of the sanctity of each individual’s right to choose for themselves what they choose to believe and practice.

Religion has always been very mutually exclusive. Most traditions wouldn’t permit you to believe in, say, Jesus and Zeus. While some religions may single out specific groups of people for specific kinds of discrimination (homosexuality being the case in point in the context of this entry), many more tend to discriminate by proxy. That is to say since one particular tradition is the “right” one and their God concept is the “true” one, everyone else is “wrong” and “less than.”

Take for example this YouTube video:

World Youth Day: They came, they saw, they trashed Randwick race course. I was secretly relieved that I was struck down by illness so I wouldn’t have to venture up to Sydney. I guess on the one hand I totally got that they were there to celebrate their religious convictions. I totally get there is great affection for the latest Pope. What I don’t get is… why? And that isn’t even a criticism of Ratzinger himself, more a general wondering about what makes the pope so important within the realm of Catholicism to begin with. I don’t feel like I’m being flippant, either. What makes any singular person any more divine than any other? There is a wonderful presumption that Priests are particularly divine though surely there is enough anecdotal evidence to acknowledge their own individual and collective shortcomings?

I recently saw The X-Files: I Want To Believe. At one point there is an exchange between Dana Scully (Gillian Anderson) and Father Joseph (Billy Connolly). Scully asks Father Joseph if he thinks God hears his prayers. Father Joseph quips back, “Do you think he hears yours?” At this point Scully offers flatly that she (unlike Father Joseph) didn’t sodomize twenty-something altar boys.

Elsewhere, some Anglicans are up in arms. Well, actually, I think most Anglicans are up in arms; it is more a question of which quarter of opinion they fall into. Gay Priests. Female Bishops. Lions and Tigers and bears – oh my!

I suppose I’ve come to two basic conclusions.

Discrimination seeks legitimacy from religion and this is not appropriate. I was particularly disappointed to see the introduction of new laws for the benefit of World Youth Day that meant that those ‘annoying’ WYD delegates could be arrested. I severely doubt the laws would be available to more secular events such as Mardi gras. Which is disappointing because I have to say Cardinal Pell’s routine protests at that particular event are really fucking annoying!

Furthermore, Organised Religion is ‘Organised’ for a reason and whatever that reason is, it seems doubtful it is about cultivating personal freedom or improving your relationship with your creator. I wonder if The Church (indeed, any church) might actually impair the potential for a relationship between you and your creator. I doubt, for example, that, if permitted by the Archbishop of Canterbury, Gay Priests or Women Bishops will be seen any differently than they were previously by God himself. No, rather, they will just have made themselves accountable to an entirely worldly figure who had spent the better part of their lives treating them like second class citizens.

We are able to freely acknowledge that historically people were controlled through militant force and religious influence; why is it so hard to acknowledge now the power we surrender to mere mortals and the potential for that power to be misused and abused?

In response to The Joy of Shame, Daniel wrote:

It’s not just ‘extremist’ churches that focus on guilt and shame. I’m not positive on this, but I think that John (like me) was raised by run-of-the-mill moderate evangelical Australian Protestants. The fact is that Christianity is centred around the doctrine of salvation, which all seems very positive until you stop to ask, “salvation from what?” Sin and damnation is the other side of the coin – you can’t have one without another, and you can’t help but be concerned with both no matter which of the two aspects your church chooses to focus on more in expressing it.

I suggest to you, today, that perhaps we are not ourselves sinful. That our creator need not want us to feel ashamed, or shameful. That the rhetoric of shame and sin is an entirely worldly construct. Born, primarily, to aid in controlling people. That the hierarchy is set up not as an exercise in support though rather in influence and control. But mostly I would suggest to those wanting to infiltrate the inner workings of either the Catholic or Anglican churches simply – be careful what you wish for, you might just get it. It might feel ostensibly like ‘acceptance,’ though it might actually be little more than a surrender of control. You may have just made yourself part of the machine.

I realise there will be those among you who will at this point cite the bible as assurance that, ‘no, John, there is really sin!’ The bible is what we politely call, in paranormal circles, ‘inspired literature.’ And I really feel as though if I am going to accept one ‘inspired’ text at face value it is only fair to accept all ‘inspired’ texts in this fashion, including – er – those faithful reworkings of history and the bible itself. What separates some books dictated by strange supernatural powers as being ‘crazy’ and others being ‘religious’ is surely a dilemma worthy of further consideration, too.

The truth is while the general tone of what I was going to write last night and what I am writing now is very different, the issues really aren’t.

I’ve never been a fan of religion, in general. Though my personal experiences, growing up, all revolved around Christianity. I would love to tell you that my experiences were all about the Love and Grace of God, but they really weren’t. If anything Christianity taught me the ‘joy’ of shame. (If the quotation marks were too subtle – they were used to denote sarcasm!)

Christianity taught me I was sinful. Christianity taught me that, in fact, we were all sinful, though apparently there were aspects to my being that were particularly notable in this regard.

And growing up I quickly became aware that there were numerous people who were happy to see me unhappy. People who seemed to derive a good deal of pleasure from my pain. I didn’t understand why they would want to do that to anyone, least of all me. I just assumed I must’ve done something to deserve it – I mean I was sinful, my scripture teacher assured me of that much.

I die a little inside when I think back to that day, but I can’t pretend it didn’t happen. I can’t pretend I didn’t run from the bus stop to my home. I can’t pretend I didn’t slam the door behind me and start crying hysterically. The bit that really cuts me, though, is that I clutched a Gideon’s bible and screamed at the sky. Can you imagine that? I can’t recall exactly what I said. I would like to think it was “Why have you forsaken me?” though that seems more poetic than I was at that stage. I imagine it was more likely, “Why are you doing this to me?” Perhaps “Why me?” more generally.

I don’t actually believe in “God” anymore. I don’t, personally, struggle with theological dilemmas or scriptural interpretations. You could be forgiven for thinking the problem had evaporated entirely.

The truth is even without the grandeur of a tyrannical God of Old Testament proportions, I still feel inadequate. I still feel inherently flawed and worthless. I now assume I’m not good enough for the people in my life in the way I used to assume I wasn’t good enough for a deity. I am terrified that I will never be enough for anyone. I am convinced I am unlovable.

I showed a project that I was working on to the person I consider my dearest friend in the world, and they didn’t say a thing about it. It is such a silly reaction on my behalf. I’m sure they were interested. I am sure (intellectually) they do care. But at the time I just wanted to throw myself in the path of a train. I am terrified of being abandoned, but suspect that the people in my life would be entitled to do it, convinced that I probably don’t deserve their affection.

I guess my fear is that Christians already have a theological reason to dislike me. Whereas, other people have to actually take the time to get to know me before deciding I’m worthless and hopeless. That probably isn’t fair. But in at least one area of my life I am well and truly a response-stimuli animal and the response is usually to flinch, before slowly withdrawing entirely.

I worry about investing in people, emotionally. It is easy enough to be dismissive of criticism of you from relative strangers, but another thing entirely when it comes from people you’ve come to care for. I try to be more open with people upfront because its easier that way, because frankly there are some things over which I exercise no or little influence. And unfortunately existing prejudices top that list.

Somebody once made a YouTube video. It was the sort of thing that ordinarily I wouldn’t have given a second thought to. But this time it was different. I lost sleep over it. Because it didn’t come from some random stranger. It came from somebody I loved.