How to not make your kid love Jesus

 

     I awake on a Sunday morning. I am 7 years old. The sun is shining through my window. It is a beautiful spring day. The possibilities are endless.
Suddenly the door bursts open "wake up, you little shit. get ready for church".
"But Mum, it's a perfect day. I was wondering if I could just go play in the woods with my friends".
"You ungrateful little retard. Jesus and the troops died for your sins so that those woods could be there. You need to fucking worship. If you do not, you shall be cast into hell where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth. Does that sound like party time to you? Do you want to gnash your teeth?"
"Well, no, but I've been thinking about this verse that I learned in Sunday School. I believe it's in Matthew, Chapter 18: "Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven." Seeing as how I already am a child, perhaps you and Dad have a few things you can learn from me. I've also found this creek I want to explore. It's in the middle of the woods and it's teeming with life, evidence of God's goodness. There are fish and frogs and snakes, and my friends and I wonder at the beauty and complexity of the universe, and we dream our 7 year old dreams and talk about what we want to do with our lives that will have the most meaning". 
   "You worthless turd. Do what I say or I will gnash your teeth for you. Get dressed in your Sunday best and then brush your un-gnashed teeth".
"It's rather warm today. Do I have to wear trousers and a shirt and tie? Perhaps I could wear shorts and a t-shirt".
"What are you a fucking idiot? God will not love you if you're running around looking like a poor person. Plus, the Joneses will be there. Do you want the Joneses and God to think that we're poor?"
"But didn't Jesus say in Luke, chapter 6: "Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God"?
"If you keep smarting off to me your father is going to take a belt to you and I'm going to wash your mouth out with soap."
   There was nothing I could do. These people would not listen to reason.


   We piled in to the family Mercedes and drove to the church. I was sweating in my long pants, shirt and tie. I started to think that maybe Jesus hates me. We filed in to the building and took our seats on the uncomfortable pews. I looked around at the building. The structure was impressive, with the high ceilings, stained glass windows and all the icons, but to me, it was a paltry substitute for the forest, which God himself created. To me, everything created by man seemed tainted. My heart knew purity when I saw it. I thought about the underpaid laborers that constructed this building, and all the poor people that might have been fed with the money that it cost, or how many homeless people this building could sleep.
The priest started talking. He seemed a bitter, unhappy man, but apparently he was my go- between to God. He was also apparently related to Charlie Brown's teacher. He recited words I had heard hundreds of times by then. All memorized, and said without conviction. I was uninspired to say the least.
At some point they asked for money, and a collection plate was passed around. My dad clears his throat loudly as he drops a bill in to the plate, just to make sure everyone noticed.


   Later on that day I finally made it to the woods. In the silence, surrounded by the glory of creation, I felt an energy surge through me and a oneness with all things. I thought about how each consciousness is the center of it's own universe and how when we die, our matter and energy will be dispersed into all things: into the earth, into food for bacteria and fungus and bugs and about how nothing created will ever be extinguished, only changing forms so that in a million years, the universe will still know I existed.


    The next morning, Monday. I am awaken from a deep sleep by the door slamming open and the light being turned on. 
"Get up. You have to go to school".
"But, Dear Parent, I was hoping that today I might not go. I was thinking about how short life truly is and I feel the need to live it to the fullest, as if it were my only day on earth. I don't think I would attend school on my only day".
"Shut the fuck up, you waste of sperm. You're going to be a loser and a homeless person with that attitude. You'll never get a good job, and when you grow up you will not be able to afford a fancy, whites only religious school like you go to, but your children will have to fraternize with black people".
This logic was so retarded I didn't have the strength to argue. I got up and fumbled in my closet for my uniform.
"But I like black people. They invented being cool. They even invented the word cool. And why do I have to wear this uniform?"
"It's training. One day, you're going to have a high paying job where you have to put on a shirt and tie every day, so you better get used to it.You're going to be a doctor or a lawyer or a banker. What, do you want to have some shit labor job and live in a trailer park?"
"Wasn't Jesus a carpenter? and where would this trailer be? Somewhere with a nice climate? perhaps the mountains or the ocean? I could be happy with that."
"Shut up, you piss ant. You are going to get rich or die trying".
"But didn't Jesus say that it would be easier for a camel to pass through the eye of a needle than for a rich man to get in to heaven?"
"That's it. I'm getting the soap and washing your mouth out".


   I got to school, in my shirt and tie, mouth tasting of Ivory. I take my seat amongst the children of the privileged. This is a classroom that would have made Hitler smile. Not a hint of racial diversity. The bell rang. The teacher says: "stand up you little fucktards and pledge alliegence to this flag". I raise my hand.
"can I be excused from pledging alliegence?"
"Why the fuck for?"
"Well, I'm no theologian, but from my understanding of the teachings of Jesus, he wanted us love everyone as we love ourselves, and I think he would view nationalism as a hindrance to true unity. I don't think we need to draw up petty divisions between ourselves, but to rather celebrate our oneness and the fact that we are all God's children".
All the kids started laughing at me. Todd, the most popular kid in class wadded up a piece of paper and threw it at my head. All the girls looked at him approvingly. The girls never looked at me. Maybe Jesus didn't love me.
"If you do not stand up and salute this flag that Jesus and the troops died for then you will have to sit out recess for the rest of the year".
I stood up, defeated. Tina, the cutest girl in school snickered at my Kmart shoes.
"Make no mistake. Jesus was an American", said Ms. Teacher.


   Immediately after we had to go to church again. What the fuck? I just went yesterday. But that's what happens when you attend a private religious school. At least now I had my friend to sit next to.
   My friend and I spent the entire service trying to suppress our laughter. We had boundless energy. We were fidgety. We were 7. There was this old woman who attended church every day and sat in the back. The poor thing had a problem and always burped and farted loudly. It echoed amongst the cavernous sanctuary. It was nearly impossible for my seven year old self to contain my laughter. I tried so hard. A laugh escaped me so hard that i blew snot on the back of Tina, sitting right in front of me. She'll never fuck me now. I look over to see Ms. Teacher glaring at me. Looks like I'd be sitting out recess after all.


   Today was a special day. We would have our first confession. What the fuck? I'm seven! Seven year olds don't sin. The only thing a seven year old does wrong is mock shitty behavior they've learned from their parents and teachers. They line us all up to take turns going in to the little booth and spilling our guts. I don't know what to say. I'm a child. I'm inherently good. I start sweating. I see Todd come out of the booth from behind the curtain, a look of smug satisfaction on his face. I bet his sins were awesome. Tina bats her eyelashes at him as he goes to say his penance. I'm racking my brain. I always thought that being a kid got you a "get out of jail free" card. The line is getting shorter. I have to poop. until finally. It's my turn.
I shyly part the curtain and enter the little booth. There's no turning back now. The priest on the other side says: "Hello my child". I gulp. here goes: 
"Forgive me father for I have sinned".
"Yes, my son, what are your sins"?
"Well...you see, me and my neighbor Tony were playing war with my Star Wars figures. We were using Castle Greyskull and Snake Mountain as our bases. We explained this by saying that all these characters in the Star Wars universe were transplanted to the land of Eternia by the Beyonder, the God-like entity that made all the Marvel Super heroes and villains fight it out on a strange planet in the Secret Wars mini series. You know, the one where Spider Man got his black costume. Anyways, the Star Wars guys find themselves on Eternia and He Man and everyone are gone. Maybe it's many years after they've died or maybe the Beyonder sent all the He Man guys to fight it out on the Death Star. I don't know, we didnt think too hard in to it. My point is, we were hiding all of our guys preparing for war with each other and we promised each other we wouldnt look while we hid our guys. I looked. I totally saw Tony stick Grand Moff Tarkin in an upper level of Castle Greyskull, thus giving me the advantage. But don't they say, "All's fair in love and war"?
I hear the priest sigh and he just says: "Say 3 Our Fathers and 3 Hail Marys and an Apostles Creed".
   Wait, that's it? I can just go and pretend to say some prayers? Man, this is cool! My parents need to learn a thing or two from this guy.
"Thanks"!, I say and head out of the booth, walking a few inches taller. As I pass Tina, I do that thing where you lick your index finger and little finger and smooth your eyebrows down with one hand. She laughs at me. It's ok. Jesus loves me and I'm forgiven.


   Later on, in class. Ms. Teacher asks us what our favorite story from the bible is. My hand shoots up immediately. 
"I like the story of Lot and his family"
"ooh that's a good one. Lot and his family were allowed to escape from the wicked city of Sodom before it was destroyed by God because Lot was a righteous man. They were told that they couldn't look back at the city, but Lot's wife disobeyed and was turned into a pillar of salt".

He doesn't look that drunk to me

"Yeah, but i like the other part. The next part is like the Empire Strikes Back as compared to Episode IV. They hid in a cave and Lot's daughters were all worried since their mom was dead that there would be no male heir in the family to carry on the family name. So they got their dad drunk and totally boned him. Even though it's a gross incest story, it makes my boner tingle a little bit, but most importantly it is a record of the only time in history that a woman had to get a man drunk in order to have sex with him...not to mention a 3 way. Usually it's the other way around, I understand. I just think its weird that if God knows everything, then he would have known that he was sending them away from a whole city of butt fuckers, only to have a drunken family incest creampie party.


Needless to say I was sent to the principal. He seemed to take joy in the fact that he was going to paddle me. Sick mother fucker. He had a paddle all ready by his desk. I asked him if I could just say a few Our Fathers and Hail Marys instead, but he refused. He wasn't going to miss out on his sick pleasure. And as he whacked an innocent 7 year old on his tender backside with a huge piece of wood, I prayed anyways. I didn't pray for deliverance from this pain and humiliation though. I simply asked God:
"Forgive them, for they know not what they do".

Anti-social networking and the End of the World

Shawn told me i was being dramatic when i disabled my facebook profile. I was actually trying to escape drama, you see. I had recently been in a situation where I had to look at facebook all the time. It totally bummed me out. It's invaluable as a networking tool for someone who is in a business like I am, but lately I've been thinking a lot about communication and i'm constantly confronted with the idea that maybe this is as much as a hindrance to communication as it has value.
   I've been trying to recover myself lately. Trying to get on a more natural rhythm. To appreciate all the things I do have instead of those which i don't. I desire real communication with my friends. but when I get on Facebook or twitter, all i see are random songs, silly political cartoons that just perfectly back up your opinion on X or kickstarter pleas for money. It's not even original thoughts most of the time, just snippets of stuff culled from the interweb....sometimes funny, sometimes enraging.
I know, you're saying "you don't have to look at it if you don't like it", but like i said I have to use it as a networking tool.
   Real communication relies so much on subtext and body language. The other day I sat with Anthony on his porch enjoying a perfect spring day. We talked, i mean really got real with each other, drank beers and whiskey and when i left I felt stronger, as if i had done something constructive. Not once did he show me a picture of his cat, tell me what he was making for dinner, ask me for money or try to sway my opinion on a political matter. Now, i know I've posted plenty of shit on Facebook before. I understand I am a hypocrite. I've never claimed to be anything more.
   Often times we allow it to influence our emotions. I've got friends who may have polar opposite political views from me, and when they post some shit i deem ignorant, it enrages me. There was this one guy in particular. He would post the most deplorable right wing hate shit. i deleted his ass so i wouldn't have to look at it and i had no respect for him....until one day i ended up at his house....i saw the way he interacted with his family and the love he had for them. and i gained that respect back. all this shit is surface level, and i guess i'm trying to get below the surface. It's easy to swim in the shallow end, after all.
I've had grown men get butthurt when i didn't message them back in time, or i didn't accept their friend request or i deleted them which has now become the most insulting thing you can do to someone, worse than pissing on their mom. Some dude i never talked to in high school wanted to talk shit to me and tell me i thought i was too cool because I didn't accept his friend request. The truth is, if i see you out at a bar, i'll talk to anyone, but i really don't need to know every mundane detail of your life and you don't need to know mine and you've just proven yourself to be a whiny little bitch and I don't care anyways.

    The other day, when i got back on Facebook from my little break, i posted something to the effect of what I'm saying now. That it was such a nice break, that i was back begrudgingly, that i was going to do some deleting and that i don't care about pictures of cats, what you had for dinner or your kickstarter campaign. One of my "friends" got so offended by that, proclaimed i was "too cool" for Facebook and deleted me. I would like to thank her now.
Because the truth is, I've had a rough couple of months. I've been forced to take stock and try to find what makes me happy. And I desire real, honest, deep communication with the people i care about. I want to sit on your porch and drink beers and listen to the world and know what makes you tic. I don't want to miss real life while i have my head buried in my phone just to hear how stoked you are about the Grizz game. Facebook is not real life. it's a sham. a cheap imitation.

During the time I didn't look at it I would wake up with my thoughts, and go through the day without being bombarded by useless information. It's the same reason I don't watch TV. All that stuff effects you emotionally whether you want to be conscious of it or not, and I'd rather focus on what's really important.
   I also feel it may make us take each other for granted. If we are always a click away we may be tempted not to reach out to each other in an honest and meaningful way.

I've been trying to get on a natural rhythm with the earth. Since i moved to the studio, i have to walk my dog 3 times a day and every day I walk to the End of the World.
The End of The World, as I heard some kids call it back in the day, is this big hill right in the center of midtown. It's where, once upon a time they had this horrible plan to cut I-40 right through the heart of midtown. When i was younger, there used to be these bridges on the hill that just stopped....unfinished interstate ramps and you could sit on the edge of them and dangle your feet off and look west at the city skyline. We used to ride Gabriel's go cart up there back in high school. Now the bridges are gone and all that's left is a grassy plateau one block long and one block wide. As I walk there every day i notice the grass growing a little more each time, i see the little scrub trees trying to establish themselves. I see a hawk often, perched on one of these low trees. At night it's significantly cooler up there and i can look up at the moon and look down at all the houses and at the Sears building and it's beautiful and quiet up there. I watch my dog as he flops through the brush, legs and tail and ears and tongue all working independently of one another as if he has no control over any of them. I sit on this scar on the earth. a bad idea unfinished. The wrong road, begun but never fully traveled and I watch as nature embraces the scar and utilizes it for life. and i ask it, whatever it is to take my scars and use them for the sake of life.