Between Two Worlds

Having grown up as a Christian in both Sweden and Texas, I think it is safe to say that I have experienced two extremes: Sweden is one of the most secular countries in the world, while Texas is one of the most religious states in America (Gallup, 2008). Maybe it's because of these two extremes that I find myself in the middle on a lot of religious questions and matters, sandwiched between secularism and the Bible Belt. Or maybe it's because I'm a middle child. Whatever the case is, I would describe myself as a politial and religious moderate who's able to see both sides of an issue. The tricky thing about religion is that it often forces you to choose a side and it's usually at the risk of excluding someone or something else in the process. History bears witness to the fact that-too often-religion has been about the exclusion of an "other" rather than the inclusion that is usually taught by the very religious prophets and/or God(s) in who's name the exclusion is being done (f.e.x, Jesus). In my experience, I find that this is something a lot of those I have spoken with agree on when it comes to religion: it is dangerous & it often breeds more bad than good. For me, this is an upsetting reality to be faced with because--from my own experiences--I have seen a tremendous amount of positive things come out of religion. The problem is that the negative things are usually more salient and newsworthy  than the positive. 

I talk to a lot of people I meet about religion and beliefs because I think it's a great way to get right to the heart of how they view the world. 

For example, just yesterday while I was at the laundromat I began talking to an Indian guy there named Prem. Unprompted, he launched into an animated explanation about his past in India and about his brother who works as a doctor treating the poor for virtually no charge. He told me that part of why he doesn't like Hinduism is because instead of helping "God's creatures" they ask for money for their temples and buildings. He said that one time when his father was ill, their village priest was supposed to come to their home to perform some rituals and prayers. The priest was ill so he sent his son. The son came and performed the rituals and when Prem's family invited the son to eat dinner with them, he refused on the grounds that Prem's mother had made the rice. This was because she was from a lower caste. The sad thing is that he had already accepted candies and other gifts, all made by Prem's mother. I was stunned & saddened to hear this story because it further underlined the exclusionary nature of religion I had been hearing about from other people. I was familiar with the horrendous stories of the Westboro Baptist Church who picket people's funerals and other events yelling and condemning them to hell. But Prem's story showed me that religious exclusion can take many forms and it doesn't have to be outright hatred like what's perpetuated by the WBC: it can be as subtle as rejecting a meal offered in sincere gratitude. This story and others like it are why my views on religion and ideas about God have changed a lot in the past few years.

My parents met in bible school in Scotland and they both did missionary work in Europe, so I grew up going to church and learning about God at an early age. But it wasn't until middle school that I really made a conscious decision to follow a certain religion. This conscious decision took the form of raising my hand up during worship time at my church youth group and silently declaring by that act that I was now a "believer." I felt a lot of emotions that night and I think the strongest feeling was that of relief. It was as though a huge weight had lifted off of my shoulders and I could breathe easier. Thinking back to that night, I don't know if what I experienced was genuine or if it was simply the result of an overly emotional atmosphere.  I like to think it was the former. Later, as I began my studies at the very liberal University of Texas at Austin, the feelings of relief and peace I felt when I thought about God somewhere turned into confusion and anger--confusion about the "big questions" (i.e., why do we suffer?) and the fact that there were never any satisfactory answers; anger because the search for those answers felt impossible and meaningless. One of my favorite songs by musician David Bazan describes this feeling very accurately. He writes in 'Curse Your Branches': "digging up the root of my confusion, if no one planted it how does it grow/why are some hell-bent upon there being an answer while some are quite content to answer  'I don't know'?" (see the full song here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_-Sv7PL0HCk). Like Bazan, I thought: why is it that I am struggling to justify my belief in God when other people are at peace not believing in anything? Why do we allow things like religion to separate us from each other?

Since leaving Texas and arriving in Belgium, I have made a discovery: we are all human--we share in the collective experience of humanity. Ok, duh! What's the point? The point is this: we choose to what extent we partake in that experience. It's so easy to seclude ourselves and to retract from the world behind a computer screen. But the opposite is true too: it has never before been so easy to connect with people. For example, if I hadn't taken off my headphones and asked Emile a question when I met him on the train 4 months ago, I wouldn't be writing this blog post right now. I made a decision in that moment to get out of my own little world and to participate in the real world. To me, that is what God is. God is all of the moments we take to acknowledge our collective humanity, to connect with other people, and to share in this experience of life together. That is where we find the true key to "religion"--we find it in each other. We find it by bridging cultural and societal gaps when we talk to complete strangers in a laundromat. The point of this rather disjointed article is simply to say this: We can make religion relevant again; we can make it positive and good instead of something negative and exclusionary. Life is our religion. Let's reclaim it. 

References:

http://www.gallup.com/poll/114022/State-States-Importance-Religion.aspx
Pictures: 
own production