Conversations about God from the Backseat

When my children reached the ripe old age of six, I decided it was time to introduce a little God into their lives. After all, we live in Florida. Sooner or later, they’re going to get a hell of a lot more God than I’ll ever be comfortable with. We went the Catholic route. I grew up Catholic, and when they were babies, I snuck them into my old parish without doing any of the requisite paperwork to get them baptized. You know. Just in case. Hell insurance, really.

Anyway, it seemed only natural that we start going to Mass before their peers figured out they had no idea who Jesus was; it also seemed like the only way to get them to stop referring to crosses as “x”s. Don’t worry, I picked a Mass that always serves donuts and lemonade afterward. Those Catholics really know how to reel them in.

We’ve been going weekly for a few months now, and the discussions that follow are the result of my hard work, fortitude and moral guidance as my kids find their path to their savior.

Week 1:

Child one put her hand on her chest pledge-of-allegiance style during the Lord’s prayer.

Afterward in the car: “Mama, I didn’t want to tell on him in church, but the man up there said JESUS CHRIST a lot. Are you going to yell at him?”

Week 2:

“You tell us to listen to the stories, but the stories are so boring, mama. Can we bring them a book to read next time?”

Week 3:

Totally skipped it to go to the beach. God is everywhere, right?

Week 4:

Child: “I want to eat one of those flat things, too.”

Me: “You have to be seven and go through a lot of stuff to do that.”

Child: “Maybe we could just lie to them.”

Me: “You’re missing the point of church.”

Week 5:

After Mass, the priest stops to talk to child 2 for a moment.

Child 2: “Oh yeah, I forgot you said CHRIST all the time.”

Week 6:

Child 2: “Mom, did Jesus die?”

Me: “Yes, he died.”

Child 2: “How did he die?”

Me: “Well, he died on a cross.”

Child 2: “What do you mean?”

Me: “You know those necklaces a lot of people wear with the x on it?”

Child 1: “Oh yeah! That’s a cross? And the little man on it is Jesus?”

Me: “Yes.”

Child 2: “What, did he walk into it or something?”

Week 7:

Child 1: “But mom, if Jesus is God, then he can’t die.”

Me: “Well, he was human too, so he died.”

Child 1: “Could he not have died?”

Me: “Yeah, he chose to die so he could open the gates of heaven for us.”

Child 2: “He CHOSE to die? Why?”

Me: “If he didn’t, we wouldn’t have a beautiful happy place to go when we die. It was his job.”

Child 2: “So he was born to die?”

Me: “Well, yeah. We all kind of are.”

Child 2: “JESUS CHRIST.”

Week 8:

Child 2: “Mom, where is heaven?”

Me: “It’s very far away. Like, past the sky or something.”

Child 2: “How do we get there when we die? We have to walk all that way?”

Child 1: “No. We must drive.”

Child 1: “Hey, mom? Heaven sounds a lot like aliens and zombies. Is God an alien and a zombie?”

As you can see, Catholicism is going really well. I feel confident I am bringing some good, God-fearing, moral little beings into the world. Even if they’re only going for the donuts.

 

An Open Letter to Pope Francis

Hey there, Pope Francis,

I'm not sure how I'm supposed to address you, so forgive the informality. It's been quite a while since I Catholicked. I'm a bit rusty on the when-to-kneel part right now.

But that's what I wanted to talk to you about. See, I lived in a Catholic-laden town, was born and raised Catholic, got all my sacraments, and even did my first year of undergrad at an all-girls Catholic college.

When you're a kid, you don't know any better, you know? You trust the adults around you. You believe what they say because they know things. And they say those things with authority. And you love and respect them.

So that God and Jesus existing as these beacons of light and life was just a given as a concept. I couldn't imagine a world without that.

One day, walking through that Catholic campus, I looked up at the chapel, and I didn't feel God anymore. I know that sounds silly, but pretend this image of Him was like a blanket covering me in my youth, and suddenly, for no discernible reason, it disappeared. I was pretty pissed. It felt like abandonment, in an equally silly way. But I carried on. I started doing some research, asking some questions, poking some holes. I ended up switching colleges and majoring in evolutionary biology. (Yeah, you heard me.)

There were several times I tried to go back. When life felt too hard, or something was lacking. I held onto the hope that God may yet return. I went back to church a few times and didn't find Him. I worked for the Church, and found the opposite of Him there. In the Church's infrastructure lies a great evil, a bullying, narcissistic, abusive presence. Literally the opposite of all the Jesusy things I'd been led to believe as a young girl. It was heartbreaking.

That's not to say there wasn't some good, there. Our Archbishop was an incredibly kind and gentle man and the former bishop of the area nearby was perhaps the most compassionate man I've ever met. There were priests fighting for families, immigrants, the poor. There was love and happiness. But the good up top was manipulated by middle management, and the good below was stifled by that same middle management.

I began to think I hated the Church, its manipulation, its trickery. I moved far to the left, supporting abortion rights, birth control, gay marriage, human rights. (And I will continue to do so, regardless of all else).

But it wasn't that I was against the Church. It was that I was for goodness. Goodness as I understand it. Goodness as charity without strings, goodness as kindness without judgement, goodness as unconditional love and compassion for all people.

I didn't believe goodness was some guy in a ridiculous hat and robe, riding around in a "Popemobile." I still don't.

But you don't even use the Popemobile!

I used to say my kids didn't know who God was. And they didn't. They went four years of their lives never hearing his name. Because I wasn't going to do that to them. I don't know anything about this stuff, and I wasn't about to mess them up by telling them the wrong thing, leading them the wrong way. Slowly this year, we've introduced some of the old bible stories. When they ask if God is real, I tell them He's a story that some people believe. When they ask me if I believe it, I say I don't really know. They still don't know about Jesus.

I got them baptized, "just in case." Because, you know, the Church has some scary-ass stories, like Original Sin, and I didn't want my preemies burning in hell just because I didn't symbolically wash away that sin. Which is ridiculous. These are the ridiculous things, you know what I mean? Well, those things, and the scandals, the sex, the money, the generally bad apples that can get to the top (in life as well as in the Church, it's across the board).

Anyway, the point of this ramble is that kids believe in things because they like and trust the adults telling them those things. I haven't liked or trusted the Church in a long time. But maybe it's not cynicism, maybe it's hidden hope.

It's too early to say yet, but you seem to be doing a lot of things I can get behind. Not as a believer, but simply as a human being. You seem to understand religion's place in the world today, and you seem to understand the goodness at the heart of all the dogma.

I like your stance on atheists (thanks for understanding, bro).

I like that even though you're still wrong about gay marriage, you agree it's none of your damn business.

I love the idea that you might possibly be sneaking out of the Vatican at night to help poor people. In. Love. With. That. Idea.

I'm down with your dismissal of stupid trickle-down economy.

I'm super excited about the fact that you are looking the child sex abuse issue in the effing face.

I mean, this is some yes, we can shit right here, am I right?

Suffice to say, if we ended up at the same party, I think we'd get along just dandy. I mean, you are lacking in hugely  important areas to me (mainly that women are actually equal human beings), but I understand we can't just change everything all at once. We'll just steer clear of talking about my vagina. I'm pretty sure you'd agree to that, anyway.

I wrote a Facebook status saying that if you were actually for real, I might consider going back. Because if Catholicism is going to do goodness and kindness right, I can get behind that. I can teach my kids that. I can give them a framework that may well be a story, but at least not worry that I'm telling them to trust corruption and 'sin' masquerading as truth and goodness.

As a friend of mine said, in reply to my status: "If we were doing Christianity right it would be irresistible. Because, truthfully, Christianity is sexy, dangerous, challenging, and bad ass."

That's the Christianity I want to be a part of.

In essence, perhaps it's not so much that I'm a non-believer, that I hate Catholicism, or anything like that. I thought I would side-eye the Church for the rest of my life, no matter what they did. But now, in just a few months, I'm tilting my head rather than squinting. Perhaps I just needed to be shown a little bit of hope, a little bit of humanity. Perhaps I wanted to belong all along, and needed just the slightest sign that you all were at least trying. 

I'm not going back yet, and I can't say I ever will. But I am paying attention. And I'm starting to give you (you the Pope, not you the Church. That will take much longer) the benefit of the doubt. Which I never thought would happen. I'm starting to smile a little when I see your picture. I'm starting to allow you to represent the Christian ideals I thought were at play when I was a very little girl. Those ideals that I soon found were nowhere in the Church at all. I'm starting to hold out hope that one man can make an institutional change.

Basically what I'm saying is, you've got the potential to bring a lot of people on board. If not as true believers, as helpers to the cause of goodness.

It's goodness we need, and goodness we're after, regardless of what God, if any, you believe in.

Please do not fuck this up. You're giving yourself an awfully big task, but you're also making people believe you might possibly be able to do it. And if not do it, at least try without falling to dogma, pressure or wealth of station.

I don't want to be crushed again. I don't want to have played the fool. Twice, after all, is shame on me.

So, Pope Francis. Go. Do it. For all of us. Make it happen. Good luck.

Darlena

PS - I hear you have the direct line to God, or something. Tell Him hi for me. And Merry Christmas (or happy holidays, whichever you prefer.)











 

Teaching Kids About God - Contributor Post

Kate Allen, resident theologist (no, really), who blogs over at CornDog Mama and just had her second beautiful baby, was able to take time out of her busy schedule to write an important post about children and God. Thanks, Kate.
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Parenting in the United States looks different in 2013 than it did in, say, 1982, the year I was born.  One of the quandaries I face as a parent, an issue that my own parents didn’t have to mull over quite as much, is the issue of religious education and “churching.”  Although I’m a self-proclaimed Christian like my parents, I don’t limit my religious practice to Christian practice.  I also don’t believe Christianity has an exclusive claim to what is good, true, and right (in fact, I believe Christianity, or at least Christians, often get it Jesus’ message wrong).  My practices and beliefs put me on the margins of Christianity (not to mention the margins of my childhood family!), and I find myself in growing company.  Many of my parent friends, though they grew up in some sort of faith tradition, have either come to pick and choose what they’re willing to pass on to their children from that faith tradition, or they eschew religion altogether.  The big question I hear, especially from friends who no longer embrace religion or believe in God, is: “If I don’t believe in God or don’t know what I believe about God, how am I supposed to teach my own child about God in a way that feels authentic rather than misleading?  Should I teach my child about God?”

As someone who sees systemic problems in her own faith tradition, I struggle along the same lines.  I don’t want my children learning about Christianity from just any Christian church community—I need to know that the Christian message they receive is more than mindless dogma that is inconsistent with the radical teachings of Jesus.

So how do I go about teaching my child about God in a way that a) isn’t contrived, b) offensive to me, and c) illuminating and helpful to my child without being oppressive?

I offer the following questions as starting points for any parent who asks this question, whether they belong to a faith tradition or have rejected religion and God but still wish to offer God as a possibility to their child.

First, what is it that teaching God/religion/faith to my child will accomplish?  Is this for me, or for my child?  What do I hope my child will gain from learning about faith?  Is it an intellectual exercise, or is there something more—something I remember from my own childhood that I want my child to experience, even if she rejects it later? 

Second, do I want to give my child a variety of faith perspectives, or do I want her to experience one primary tradition with occasional references to others?   Do I feel competent enough to teach my child about many faiths?  Do I feel competent enough to teach her primarily about one without tearing down others? 

For someone who wants to go the former route but isn’t sure where to start, a good place to begin is the Unitarian Universalist Church, which is intentionally embracing of all faith and no faith at once—Unitarians include theists, atheists, Christians, Jews, Buddhists, you name it.  For someone who prefers to allow her child to experience one faith tradition primarily (in my case, Christianity), one might start in a “safe” denomination.  The United Church of Christ is a Christian denomination that is progressive, socially conscious, and warmly inclusive—all things I know I want my children to be exposed to (and formed by) in a religious context.  On the other hand, my childhood denomination, Roman Catholicism, is home to really rich, symbolic ritual, and it’s extremely important to me that my children learn about the power of great ritual, the sort that gets repeated often enough to get into their bones.  A compromise might be to search for religious communities that straddle the margins as much as I do.   One way to figure out whether a community honors and dwells in margins without risking an in-person visit is to visit their website.  Is there anything about this place that stands out as unusual (and good!) in comparison with other communities of the same tradition?  To use a personal example, my husband and I heard about and joined an African American Catholic Community and eventually had our marriage blessed there, even though neither of us is African American.  African American Catholics certainly aren’t a majority among African Americans or Catholics, so they’ve had to make their own creative way, weaving those two strands of identity together in a way that honors each without diminishing the other.  Church communities like this, that push against whatever “the usual” is because of their “unusual,” marginalized status, are the most likely to honor the questions and concerns that I bring to the table where the religious education and formation of my children are concerned. 

That brings me to the final big question: to what religious institution can I go and share my own concerns and misgivings about religion and God while being taken seriously, rather than dismissed (or, worse, regarded as sinful/shameful/naïve/unfaithful)?  A religious community that fails to admit its own ability to be wrong is a community that I’ll never want my child to learn from.  I need my child to learn that even though God is good, religion sometimes really isn’t.  A religious community that can’t admit its own failings is a religious community whose images of God I won’t be able to relate to (and certainly won’t be able to teach my children about with any conviction). 

Even though I’m a lifelong Catholic, I am more importantly a person who has put “God” and religion to the test—questioning whether masculine images of God are the only valid ones, or even the best ones, for example.  I’ve also dug deep into Christian scripture to see how/when Jesus and other holy figures contradict themselves, promoting prophetic good in some ways and making grievous wrongs in action and judgment elsewhere.  I don’t mind the digging—I’m not afraid of what will come of my search.  I surround myself with people who can help me explore—I trust that they haven’t planted answers ahead of time, even if they’ve dug their own digging and found gems of their own for me admire.  For me, the search is the point, and I think this is especially the case for parents who have rejected religion and/or God but want to give their children the option to embrace one or both. I want my kids to see that my answers about God (and the answers of the faith traditions I choose to expose them to) are not final, because if they were final, they’d be missing the possibility of transformation, expansion, and surprise.  Whether my kids ultimately choose to embrace religion or God is not so important to me as whether they learn what my own faith-on-the-margins has taught me: to love abundantly, to turn again and again toward goodness, and to approach both new and familiar experiences with wonder.

 

Guest Blog - My Body as God's House

If you've been following along at all, you know we're not very religious around here. As such, I am always super interested in those that live their lives in accordance to some of those guidelines. Rebecca at "Blogging With Goodly Intentions" is one of those. Her blog is captivating to me. She's agreed to do this guest post for me, and I am forever grateful.

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19 What? know ye not that your body is the temple of the Holy Ghost which is in you, which ye have of God, and ye are not your own?

20 For ye are bought with a price: therefore glorify God in your body, and in your spirit, which are God's.

--1 Corinthians 6:19-20 King James Version

It's simple, really.  God's word, which are the words in the Bible,  says that my body is a temple ( house) of the Lord.  God's house should not be filled with junk.  It should be holy ground.  With that in mind, I have to figure out what is okay to allow  into my body.

My mouth is a way into my body.  What am I putting into my body when I drink a bottle of soda?  What about carrots?  What about water?  Or the cupcake?

What is good for me?  What is bad for me?  Why does it matter?  Who does it matter to?  How does it affect me?

These are all questions to consider when thinking about what I should be eating.

First of all, why does it matter?  Well, my children and husband matter.  I want to be here for them.  I don't want to die before my time.  I want to be able to care for them and nurture them. 

Second, why does it matter what I eat?  Well, if I eat a nutritious meal, avoiding the junk food, I will have a better quality of life.  Please know that I am trying to convince myself of this because it is that important to me.  Having to detox from all the bad food's effects is difficult and painful.  Believe me, I've had to do this several times.

This topic of what I am putting into my body has permeated my life so much.  My children and husband have seen me in pain.  They've heard me cry out in pain.  They don't want to see me in pain any more than I want them to see me that way.  The last thing I want is their pity.

That's why we have discussions at the dinner table.  It means so much to me that my kids learn how food affects us.  Food should give us energy.  I shouldn't be sluggish after eating a meal.  Yet, how many times has that happened to many of us?

Am I over-bearing about this topic?  Probably...but I need for my kids to know that spinach, broccoli, and tomatoes are better than chocolate donuts and potato chips.  Am I being a good role model?  I hope I am.  I am showing them my daily struggle with junk food.

In teaching my children about the types of foods, I am not spending time creating lesson plans.  I can, though.  I could spend all the time creating an Ebook about all the healthy foods we  should be eating.  I can spend money buying the books that teach about proper lunches and dinners.  The best way, though, is to live out what I want my children to learn.

I am a work in progress.  Who isn't?  I'm still learning.  I never learned how to cook from my mother, and it wasn't her fault.  I just didn't take the time to learn from her.

Then, again, she didn't have time to explain about healthy foods.  As a widow, she was busy working to put food on our table.  I did have teachers who taught me about that stuff.  The problem was that I ate junk food, like soda and potato chips, without anyone policing me.

This is the reason why I am more of a hands on mother.  It is in the teachable moments that I get to show my kids the truth of food.  Not all food is good.  Eating in moderation is best.  Sometimes, good food will still make you sick.

Allergies, food-poisoning, and proper handling of raw foods are real-life.  Those things cannot be taught from a book.  I feel the responsibility to teach my kids to cook.  It's vital to wash our hands and keep raw meat away from vegetables and fruit.  The best way to teach my kids is to have them do it.

To conclude, I'll say again that God says my body belongs to Him.  He resides in me, but how welcomed does anyone feel in a dirty house?  Yeah, you get it.  I'd say God feels welcome when our houses (bodies) are clean.

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Rebecca Garcia  is the mother of four children, which includes two teens.  She has been home schooling for about 11 years, has been married for 16 years to a devoted husband, and has been blogging everyday this year.  How she does it, is anyone's guess.  You can learn more about her family at: Blogging With Goodly Intentions.