I'll tell you a secret

I'll tell you a secret: I wish I could be Christian.

I wish I knew there was a god out there. I wish I thought there was life after death. I wish there was some cosmic plan out there, a being looking after us all, some sense of right and wrong in the world. I wish there was some hope, some eternal scheme for this world, some purpose in us all being here. I wish there really was a god who listened to me and cared about me and loved me no matter what, even if I don't feel the need for one. But it would be nice, to think there was a god like that out there. It's a nice fantasy, I think.

I'll tell you a secret: I wouldn't want to be a Christian.

I'd struggle with the restrictions, the theological contradictions, the hypocrisy of modern Christians, the corruption of the church. I'd feel guilty, because as a Christian you're more aware of "sin" you commit, and I'd worry and stress out about everything I did wrong, always feeling I didn't measure up, even though part of the point of Christianity is that you don't need to measure up. If I'm to be honest, when I was a Christian I was emotionally pretty screwed up, and I hated myself for always feeling I didn't measure up to the Bible's standards. I wouldn't want to live according to the Bible's ethics and morals instead of mine. I wouldn't know how to talk to people, whether to talk about it and be condemned by everyone as a freak and a traditional, backwards-thinking fundamentalist, or to not say anything and feel I'm betraying what I believe in.

I'll tell you a secret: I don't think I'm being contradictory. Not at all.

I'm just being human.

First moment of disillusion

I can remember the first time I was disillusioned in the Church, although it wasn't till years later — after I stopped being a Christian — that I realised my disillusion was with the Church — not with Christianity itself.

I had put my name forward to join the "worship team" at my church — that is, the group of singers and musos at the front of the church who lead the congregation in song.

I was pretty excited, and pretty nervous. I was 14 or 15 at the time, and was a shy girl who blushed all over just from talking to someone she didn't know — let alone singing in front of church.

I rode my pushbike to church that week, praying I'd do well, singing my scales nervously, singing a musical tongue-twister we'd been taught in my first worship team practice, earlier that week. We didn't start on time, but practice was going well, and I was slowly gaining some confidence — although the sound guy was still turning my microphone up to maximum volume since no-one could hear my shy little voice.

We came to a particular song I loved, and did a test run of the song. Then the worship leader stopped.

"Nouch," he said to his co-leader, "Which way should I sing? Like this—" he sang the line — "Or like this?" And he sang it again, singing on a higher note, his eyes closed. "I think the second way sounds more emotional, don't you?"

Nouch agreed, and he sang it that way, as I stared at them, unable to believe it. I knew I was naive, but... all those times in church, I'd been carried away in the song. The leader singing higher notes, his eyes closed, did sound more emotional; I had got more emotional myself, never realising this was a deliberate ploy to stir up my emotions.

But it was the first glimmer of recognition that I had of the deliberate emotional manipulation that goes on at churches. It's not being "moved by the Spirit"; it's coldly manipulating people's emotions.

It's still a moment I remember very clearly.

Lukewarm

I asked a friend recently whether she was still a Christian. Her reply?

"Sort of."

If you've rescinded your faith, at least have the decency to admit it. It annoys me how many Christians I knew — and, back in the day, nearly all my friends were Christian — who have just fallen away. I'm not talking about Sunday Christians; I'm talking about real Christians who knew what it meant and believed and prayed and sought God and all manner of things.

I never "fell away" or "backslid". I examined my beliefs, and found them unbelievable. I didn't lose my faith; I chose to leave it.

I have friends who decided they never really believed in the first place, which is fair enough. But I have friends who are "too busy" or "too tired" or "can't be bothered any more"; I have friends who still believe in Christianity, who believe that they're actually going to hell, but prefer the life of a non-Christian.

I hate that.

If you're going to believe in anything, stand up for it. Believe in it. Do it. If you're going to disbelieve it, have a reason. Only two of my friends have stopped believing because they've found it unbelievable .

Sunday Christians don't bug me; they've never thought about it, never wondered about what it really means to be Christian. But I can't understand intelligent, wondering, thinking people who once had a fiery, gut-wrenching faith and have left it by the wayside for no better reason than they're "too busy".

"If [I believed], it'd be in me like a fever. If I thought there was some god who really did care two hoots about people, who watched 'em like a father and cared for 'em like a mother... well, you wouldn't catch me sayin' things like 'There are two sides to every question,' and 'We must respect other people's beliefs.' You wouldn't find me just being gen'rally nice in the hope that it'd all turn out right in the end, not if that flame was burning in me...that's what true faith would mean, y'see? Sacrificin' your own life, one day at a time, to the flame, declarin' the truth of it, workin' for it, breathin' the soul of it. That's religion. Anything else is just... is just bein' nice....

I don't think that's fashionable right now, 'cos it seems that if you sees evil now you have to wring your hands and say, 'Oh deary me, we must debate this.'"

— Granny Weatherwax to Mightily Oats in Carpe Jugulum (Terry Pratchett), pp349-350.

Heritage

I can't remember when it occurred to me that I didn't have a cultural background. There's the Maori culture, Aboriginal culture, Native American culture, Russian cultures — but what's the Pakeha (New Zealand European) culture? I couldn't think of anything that was culturally mine, and suddenly I felt a chasm of historical nothingness open up behind me.

I do have a culture, of course. Christianity.

It only occurred to me recently, how closely religion and culture are connected. It explains why so many indigenous cultures have been wiped out, in missionaries' zealous attempts to chase out ungodliness. It shows why Christians who come from a different culture, can have problems reconciling their faith with their intrinsic beliefs and systems.

I can't remember what brought it up, maybe the furor a little while ago about having a Maori Day. After all, Maori don't have a day that's specifically theirs.

That got me thinking about how Pakeha don't have a day that's specifically ours, either. Not that I particularly feel the need for one, to be fair. I've heard the argument that every holiday New Zealand has is a Pakeha holiday — Christmas, Easter, Labour Day, Waitangi Day, Anzac Day and so on. A couple of those are debatable. But all of them (except Waitangi Day) at least have English names.

I've wondered, since I stopped believing in God, if I should still celebrate days like Easter and Christmas. I do, of course. Even if I'm not exactly thanking Jehovah for the gift of his son, I don't see any reason not to have a fun family time and all give each other presents. I imagine very few people honestly believe in Christianity these days, but that doesn't stop almost everyone from celebrating what is still, in its essence, a Christian holiday. It's our culture.

I don't think you can ever completely separate religon from culture. You can stop practising a religion, and cut yourself off from your culture as well; but I don't think you can really adopt a religion without adopting at least some of its culture, or continue cultural observances while disassociating yourself from the related religion. Religion and culture are too intertwined.

And all this talk about culture got me thinking about cultural/historical background. Everyone else seems to have a history to be proud of.

What's my history? Englishmen and Scotsmen who came over to conquer an inoffensive land for the sake of their own greed.

I'm still proud of my history, though. I'm ashamed to think of the things those first Europeans did in New Zealand, those blood-shedding pioneers and overzealous missionaries, but it's not exactly something I can change now. And I am proud of how far the English got, their technological advances, their pioneering spirit. I'm proud to be descended from so many intelligent, courageous people.

Part of the reason I decided to major in history was to find out where I come from, what my roots are, what traditions and observances and changes my ancestors, way way back in the day, went through. I mentioned once to a fellow student on a contact course, that I was studying history "to see the wider picture of where I came from", and she eagerly recommended I take a paper on Maori history in the twentieth century. I smiled and murmured something noncommital, but I was thinking: I meant a much wider picture than that.

Maybe it was started by the hullabaloo a while back about whether or not Palmerston North should keep the cross on the top of the clock tower in the Square. In the end, the cross was knocked down during a storm (or stolen by Muslim vandals, depending on whom you listen to) and the City Council replaced it with a far uglier cross than before.

But people were protesting that the cross was offensive to people of other religions. Why not put up a Star of David, a pentacle, a crescent? Why elevate one religion over all others?

Yes, the cross is a Christian symbol. But my European heritage doesn't come with any cultural holidays or symbols that aren't Christian. To me, the cross on the clock tower isn't a symbol of Christianity lording it over all other religions — just a reminder of my Christian heritage.

My culture is Christian; my history leads from one of the world's greatest Empires; I'm proud of both. We get taught a lot about Maori history in New Zealand school, which is great. But I think it would have been nice to get some sense of pride in my own history, too.

Being happy with who YOU are

The other day I was in a conversation with someone who started talking about how I will bring up my future children. Midway through our discussion, I mentioned something about my parents' Christianity, and how they'll want my children brought up to know about Christianity and God etc (neither Dan nor I, of course, are Christian) and the person I was talking to made some sweeping statement about how my parents will have to support my beliefs as equal to theirs, or something to that effect.

I think it's very easy for people to talk about respecting other people's beliefs, when most New Zealanders don't have any firm beliefs themselves. But as someone who has had a firm belief in God in the past — even if I don't any more — I think that's rubbish. I don't mean respecting people's beliefs is rubbish; but the people spouting off that phrase usually don't honestly understand what it means to hold a strong belief.

Say I had a kid. My parents believe that if this kid doesn't become a Christian, she (we'll assume it's a girl) will go to Hell. In that case, I think the most loving, caring thing they can do for their granddaughter is to tell her about God to at least try to prevent that.

I'm not saying I'd bring my kids up as Christians; that makes no sense, when it's not something either Dan or I believe in ourselves. But if I had a kid, I'd talk to my parents about it, and as long as they don't tell my kids "Mummy's wrong and is going to hell", I've no objection to my future children learning about Christianity, deciding they want to be Christian or Buddhist or Hindu or whatever. Hell, Christianity might be true, in which case I don't particularly want my kids heading for hell either! I wouldn't undermine my parents' talks as long as they wouldn't undermine me and my partner. I don't think they would, though.

But respecting other people's beliefs is only relevant if you believe it doesn't matter in the end. "As long as you're OK with you." Truth is relative, the afterlife's unimportant, and as long as you're happy and healthy it doesn't matter if most of the world is quite literally going to Hell.

I don't really know what my point is here. I did have a point, at some stage. I think my point was that people might potentially be critical of some people (like my parents) who have strong beliefs, because my parents don't hold that all other beliefs are equal and good and irrelevant so long as the person themselves is happy. That doesn't mean that people like my parents wouldn't equally respect a Muslim or a pagan or an athiest. Just that they don't believe any belief is OK.

It's that whole thing again, being intolerant of the intolerant. So ironic.

Unfortunately, truth is not relative, facts are facts, and if there's an afterlife I'm very worried. If you're happy your whole life long and then end up in an eternity of torture, it does matter.

I don't believe in Christianity. But if any of these spiritual theories are true, then "being happy with who you are" just isn't enough, in the long run.

And people who believe that they respect all beliefs, should respect the beliefs of people who don't respect all beliefs.