I came of age in a Christian fundamentalist religion.  You know the type, replete with the stereotypical hellfire and brimstone, where all women, even girl-children, are considered, potentially, either Jezebels or Lot’s daughters.  We were not just daughters of Eve, there, but Eve incarnate, designed by our very natures to lead men astray whether we willed it or no.  Evil in our hearts, and powerless to control it, we were worse than Cain who slew his brother, worse than Isaac who would have slain his son, worse even than the matricide king, we, the daughters of men, would inevitably lead men astray.  Though not always by will, the result of our very femininity was both inexorable and inherently evil.

 

It was probably here that I began having issues with church.  But while the nature of my own evil might have given me pause, it was not, in fact, what finally caused me to leave.

 

The ultimate catalyst was the hatred inherent in the fundamentalist doctrine I grew up with.  It was a church where “love the sinner, hate the sin” homilies abounded, and yet I saw no evidence of loving sinners, only hating sin.  And the vile wretches who had the misfortune to be caught committing them.  And the sinners’ children, as well, who were guilty by progenation.

 

It was a call to arms then.  “Onward Christian Soldiers” wasn’t allegorical, but literal, and we were all – even we Eves – to take up arms against our fellow men to see God’s Kingdom well and truly established.  In fighting the Good Fight, we otherwise irredeemable repositories of sin might, somehow, see ourselves redeemed.  Ah salvation guaranteed.  The promise of an afterlife filled with naught but milk, honey and lotus blossoms, sitting at the feet of the almighty, and with less care than the lilies of the field.  You can imagine, can’t you, how sweet that sounds?  Especially to angst-ridden teenage outcasts looking for some sort of acceptance?

 

And yet the acceptance required a price, one I was ultimately unwilling to pay, the sacrifice of one’s conscience, of one’s humanity, to the Great Homogenizer.  It required hating one’s fellow man for no better reason than divergent beliefs about the divine, or even different interpretations of the same belief. 

 

Following the logic to its end, the doctrine required threatening judges, and killing doctors who performed abortions, and disenfranchising homosexuals, and executing children, and murderous imperialism in the name of a God who, if He existed, I was sure would not approve of the things being done in his name.  If a God could send his only son into the world to die, only to save this inveterate, injudicious, intolerant, scrap of biological ephemera called Man, then surely, thought I, he would not want us killing each other over the question of occasional pork consumption.  Surely, such an enlightened entity, and one that not only believed in free will, but purportedly endowed humanity with it, would not only allow for divergence, but also even enjoy and celebrate it.

 

It was, it seems, the beginning of heresy.

 

It was certainly the beginning of apostasy, followed by agnosticism.  And yet I cannot but think that God, if such exists, is better served by apostates and agnostics who follow the love aspects of those vaunted biblical teachings, than the self-appointed righteous who stand on the temple steps and loudly condemn all they see.  I cannot but think that Jesus / Yeshua, the man who dined regularly with lepers and whores, would prefer a following bent on helping their fellow men than on “making them pay.”

 

I wax philosophic I know (or perhaps more wan, depending on the reader’s point of view), but recent events – or perhaps it is the events of my lifetime – cause me to want to put pen to paper, or its electronic equivalent.

 

For those who claim to be Christian, and yet hate and sow hate, I say – I don’t buy it.  I haven’t bought it since I was 14 and old enough to figure out that the X chromosome was not also the evil genome, and the Y chromosome wasn’t a biological panacea; that love is utterly incompatible with hate; that hate, in any form, could never lead to peace or the metaphorical (if not concretely physical) Eden to which various religions promise a return.  There is no such thing as “love the sinner, hate the sin;” it’s merely a simplistic salve designed to soothe an undemanding conscience.  It’s flip-flopping at the highest level.  One should, instead, endeavor not to hate at all.  Or, if one must hate, hate honestly, without trying to cast fear and vitriol as somehow well-intentioned.

 

But then there are two Gods.  And liberals cannot forget the second.  The same God who is said to have inspired 1 Corinthians also inspired Revelation.  Unless the Council of Nicea got it all wrong and fell for a false prophet, that is.  But I don’t suppose that could ever happen.

Welcome to A Voce, my conversations with the world beyond my front door.

About my Blog

Borne of my frustrations with the November 2004 US elections, the untenable War on Terror, the highly polarized and antagonistic political climate, and the eroding line separating church from state, faith from fact, I decided to stop haranguing my husband and start writing the blog. I read all sorts of sources, both domestic and international, and, though my thoughts may well (and often do) mirror those of many others, they are my own. I am not a lemming, blindly following the hindquarters of others.

I’m socially liberal and fiscally conservative in the old-fashioned sense, which means I heartily disagree with current neo-conservative policies spending now so our children can pay for it later. I believe in a small government that protects the people, but stays out of our bedrooms.

About Me

I’m married and mother to two boys.

I’m a feminist in the old-fashioned sense, as well. Women should be considered on their own individual personal merits and inconsistencies, not graded on their plumbing, paid on their genitalia, or disregarded due to shorter vocal cords. My boys like trucks, fire engines, karate and dolls – and I have no problem with any of that.

I’m Southern by birth and by choice. I own several pairs of shoes and have all of my own teeth.

As a general rule, I like cats, tolerate medium-sized, useful dogs, and dislike the other canines. Fish are good for eating. I hate Brussels sprouts, and adore cheese. Cheese in almost any form in wonderful stuff.

About my Screen Name

Kiosan is Old High German which translates roughly into "to choose." We choose what we eat, how we dress, who we are, our friends, our enemies, our reactions to the world. Life is choices, highness, for good or for ill, and we are each ultimately responsible for our own ends.  Anyone who tells you otherwise is selling something.

Religion

When it comes to religion, I’m a strong agnostic: I don’t know whether or not a God/god exists, and I haven’t found anyone else who does, either. Some days I’m a Deist, and some days an atheist. It’s a journey I’m still on. Regardless, I have no use for organized religion in almost any form, whatever name they use for their own version of God. I grew up in a fundamentalist protestant religion, have studied many others, and have found them almost universally internally contradictory, misogynistic, and more focused on temporal control than spiritual enlightenment.

While some may find religion comforting or helpful, and I support their right to practice privately as they choose, I believe it’s a private matter best kept out of public institutions like courthouses and schoolrooms.

I welcome thoughtful discourse on religion, and am usually eager to learn, but please don’t proselytize at me. I’ve been "in the church," and know that community quite well. I reject religion for myself, and if indoctrinated nightmares of eternal hellfire implanted in my early childhood and reinforced through my adolescence couldn’t hold me, neither will anonymous threats by internet posters who don’t bother with original, independent thought.

A Few Things my Parents Taught Me

• Always keep your promises
• Say what you think, after you’ve thought
• Never confuse can with should
• Ships are safest in a harbor, but that’s not why ships are built
• Whatever you are, be a good one

Contacting Me

Comment, of course, or you can email kiosan AT avoceblog DOT com.

Welcome, again. I’d offer you something to eat (that’s what we Southerners do, you know), but casserole doesn’t translate well into the virtual world yet. But please, pull up a chair, brew up some coffee, and have yourself a high old time.

And Gumplike, that’s all I have to say about that.

He's had a rather significant cold for the last week and half, and missed quite a bit of school (as I've missed work).  Ear pain this morning sent us to the doctor, assuming an ear infection.  His ears are fine, but his lungs?  Not so much. 

3 scrips from the doc sent us to Kroger, where we did the week's shopping (mostly, sans list as we were) whilst waiting for the meds.  Both boys were bouncing off the walls, which left Mommy threatening severe entertainment impairment, and frustrated and flustered.  Got home, called Mom four states away, accomplishing nothing but making myself feel guilty for calling when Mom said she felt terrible for not being here (seriously.  Not Mom's fault we live forever away.  It is what it is, and I probably shouldn't have said anything, but Hubby's been off traveling for the same week and a half, and I was feeling the need to share).

Then , lovely surprise of surprises, Kroger did'nt actually give us all of the bottles.  The neighbors aren't home yet, so we all have to pile back in the car to run back to the store and pick up the steroid they forgot to give us when we were first there.

This is after $200 for bread, milk, other staples and some snacks for the next week, $30 for the visit copay and $30 more for the meds (and I'm on a 90/10, so this isn't quite the end of the bill).

Yeah, the economy's great, especially since I'm not at all worried about repercussions from missing two weeks of work because the kids are ill.

Actually, my director is extremely family friendly, and I have the ability to do some work from home, so this is probably not the end of the world.  But I recognize that, in this day and age, we're very lucky.  We have health insurance, I have a job that's at least somewhat flexible, and I work for people who understand my situation. 

I am so not the norm.

But you know what?  I think I should be.  I guess that's why I can't vote "real" conservative (whatever that means today).  I'm all about personal responsibility, believe me.  Sometimes, however, personal responsibility means taking actions that are contrary to "conservative" interests - like a woman working for a living, or taking time to take care of family when they're ailing while trying to maintain a job, or just sucking it up and doing what needs to be done, even if I'd rather the situation were different.

Sometimes we don't get our first choice, you know?  Maude knows, my first choice would be my son healthy, not suffering from freaking pneumonia.

So, posting will be what it is this week.  TV is being devoted to Spongebob, and spare computer moments should probably go more to paid work.