I’ve decided to post about a collection of things that bother me because, frankly, I haven’t posted anything in a while… and what is a blog besides an online soapbox?

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.

I tried writing something in here last night. It was going to be a terribly witty explanation of why Christians scared me. It even had a witty title to coincide with The World Youth Day celebrations: Ratzinger Is Coming – Look Busy!

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.