In the meantime, I have now moved on, and discovered just how tedious The Acts of the Apostles actually is. It's like being trapped in a room with someone who constantly wants to show you their latest album of holiday snaps. Its not particularly edifying, but it is an endurance.
- This is the day we were in Ephasus, we spoke about Jesus, did a few miracles, upset some of the locals, were imprisoned, angels got us free and in one bound we fled into the hills.
It's the biblical equivalent to the mythic escapades of Bonnie & Clyde, but in the Romano - Judeo - Christian world.
I began this experiment of reading the New Testament, as a means to an end. And that was to discover what the New Testament is actually like, rather than what I remember it is as being like. I'm finding it's too easy to roll out the demolition squad. To poke fun at them, which is generally more my bag. I have to keep pulling myself back from that, because it's very seductive to substitue a considered appraisal with just the making of mockery.
That I don"t always succeed in resisting that impulse, I do apoligise for. But I also do not wish to completely self censor myself, otherwise the whole project would be in danger of rendering my responses an undeserved affectation of truthfulness. One of my responses, particularly when I don't understand, or feel annoyed, is to head straight for the nearest fallacious statement and mischievously tease it.
A central question that I keep coming back to is - why Christianity at all? What human needs does the Christian faith meet? And, more importantly - why is it resisting making much sense to me? Do I need to change or get a new prescription for my spectacles? This is not about my wanting to believe, but just to understand Christian belief. Mostly I feel frustratingly stranded holding my incredulity, like a tool without a users manual.
One of the things I'm currently noticing, because it tends to quite wind me up, is the apparent exclusivity of God's love. That God is often portrayed as a divinity who will help you if you faithfully adore him, and is indifferent or hostile toward you, if you don't. Whatever you do - don't ever be a Gentile. Don't ever incur the Wrath of God because its not pretty. If we are all God's creation, why does he not care for all of us, irrespective of whether we believe in God? Could God really be that petulant? If you're not going to believe in me - to the back of the queue buddy.
I now understand where evangelical Christians get that, sometimes patronising, sense of conviction from - its there in the Bible - it's there in the words of Jesus - its in the acts of the Apostles. Overt proselytising, getting out there and selling the gospel, is in Christianity's primary DNA. And much as most of us would tend to run a mile the moment you spot a street preacher. That speaker was once St Peter, that was once St Paul. And the outcome for them was often literally death defying.
When I lived in Cambridge, there used to be a youngish guy who'd regularly stand on his soapbox and rail his declarations of the apocalypse and imminent doom down upon the hapless Sunday shoppers outside a shopping mall. You had to admire his courage, the sheer arrogant chutzpah it required to do that. However, I would never ever do such a thing. I think I'd rather die than open myself up to even the possibility of public shaming or ridicule. For not being willing to publicly stand up for what I believe in, curiously, I feel a bit of a whimp, but reassuringly English.
This partly comes out of inhabiting a democracy in its late stage decline. If it is so, its because of passivity. Not prepared to fight for what we believe in, distrustful of conviction or faith. We are crippled by not knowing or caring what those are for us now. If anything at all. We live in immune, faithless bubbles. We exist because we buy. and post selfies on Instagram. Protected by a veil of shallowness and self deceit. Maybe apathy and atheism are in fact sharing an uncomfortable sick bed together.
No comments:
Post a Comment