Now don’t get the wrong idea . . .
My consistent applause is for your clear writing and interesting points of view, James Finn.
I wish I could say it was also because I completely agree with you . . . or that I could find a way to ferret out and give a concise voice to the parts of me that don’t.
Mostly though, and enthusiastically so, I do.
(How’s that for a response to the main query at a wedding?)
In any case, you make me think — sometimes more deeply than I realize at first. I imagine that’s more satisfying for you than this digital applause we cherish as reward.
Maybe my reluctance stems from not wanting to throw the baby out with the bathwater.
I too share many elements of your evangelical past . . . and have rejected an awful lot of toxic beliefs that don’t work for me. In the rut where I’m currently stuck, I’m surrounded by loved ones whose blinders I cannot hope to remove. I do my part to push back against the tide of “Hey you, believe this irrational thing,” especially when that tide threatens to moisten me. On the other hand, I’m also guilty of my own irrationalities, however few and benign they are.
It’s the fear of damaging those truly benevolent irrationals that slows my roll . . . whether or not I share in their delusions. Feeding the starving, clothing the poor, and caring for the sick and dying are mighty good works — and many of the front-line benevolent could care less about enforcing the strings attached. But I’m all-in for raging against the machine when it comes to Educating the masses.
Now, I could not be less Catholic . . . but I do love me some nuns, and an awful lot of them are on our side. A good many priests and monks too. I wonder about the ones in the fancier robes, the ones who issue marching orders.
Although . . . Francis at the top seems mighty righteous (in the surfer sense) as far as popes go, and has made some nudges in the right direction. Let’s hope he can recover from his cringy missteps last month in Chile. If anybody can flip the script on AIDS in Africa, it’s Francis.
(Look at me sticking my less-than-fully-informed neck way out on the block. I bet that’s gonna hurt.)
So I keep a completely separate brush soaked in tar . . . and use it only to paint the bigots as I see ’em . . . and try to count to ten (sometimes higher) before I get to work. You should see the winged sistahs in my visions, flying around with the big bag of feathers!
