10 posts tagged “religion”
One of my favorite bits, the late great George Carlin on religion:
I think I found out why one cleaning ladies gives me the side-eye, when I say hell. She thinks I'm a godless heathen. Or at least that's what the reading material she left in the handicapped my stall leads me to believe. It's about a clumsy arsonist nearly done in by his own dirty work, but before he dies he given the option of heaven or hell. Shit, once you nearly burned to death, I wouldn't think the latter option would be that bad.
When I was younger, I usually found them in the restaurant and gas station bathrooms. I was just reading up on Jack Chick, the cartoonist behind the tract, and his views on abortion, homosexuality, Catholicism, Mormonism and Africa. So I could understand why they've disappeared and I don't see them as much as I used to living in Carolina-- not that I friggin' miss them. It's just nice to look back on things that nearly scarred you as a child and get a chuckle of them now.
Here's the church's statement of response:
Statement of Response
adopted by the Board of Deacons
Monday, November 13,
2006
We, Myers Park Baptist Church, Charlotte, N.C., are affiliated with the American Baptist Churches, U.S.A., The Alliance of Baptists and, since our founding in 1943, the N. C. Baptist State Convention. Baptists believe in “local church autonomy.” Exercising that freedom and that responsibility to interpret scripture for our own faith and practice, we have said in our church covenant that as a “community of the new creation” we are “open to all and closed to none.” This includes a welcome to gay and lesbian persons who wish to follow Christ with us here.
The N. C. Baptist State Convention has voted to exclude churches that welcome gay and lesbian persons. They may ask us either to leave or to change our practice. We will not allow our conscience to be coerced by their exclusionary conditions of membership, and we reaffirm Christ’s welcome to all persons and our commitment to a ministry of reconciliation that seeks to be a healing witness in a world of divisions and hatreds and a part of God’s dream to make all things one.
source mpbconline
Damn. I'm trying to think of something witty to respond to the following ("It's tight, but it's right." Well, honey, at least we agree on at least one thing.), but I think that spirit of retardation has got a holt of me. And I think it's that spirit that's me confused as to exactly what a "pacade" is? (spotted on omg blog)
I'm tempted to give out a B.G.L(oathing)O. W. But how can I hate on the woman whose fashion sense leans towards the whimsically ironic? Apostle Delphine 's far from little, and I'm sure she declares herself to be a "child of God." So she's far from being an orphan. But that frock she's rocking says Little Orphan Annie by way of The Avenue.
And to clear away to cobwebs(of hate) and sorrow(of ignorance) please sing along with me:
"She's coming in tonight," M told me, about an hour before his mom was at our door with her twin sister and M's nephew, little M, in tow. Little M likes me a bit more than he likes M. That's because M is the disciplinarian and I let him get away with murder. You wanna jump up and down on the ottoman, little buddy? Have at it! I didn't expect them so soon. If M's mother and sister had had their way, we wouldn't have been expecting them at all. However, word filtered through the family grapevine that they intended on surprising M with a visit. One of M's cousin made a call to their mother to tell her that she and her sister might want to take me into consideration, before rolling down from Pittsburgh on the sly. I appreciate the courtesy, but I'm more than happy to have them over. And hell, it still turned out to be somewhat of surprise with their early arrival. I expected them on Friday, but here they were in Maryland on Thursday evening. No worries.
The family visit I'm more concerned about is the one scheduled for next week. My mom is coming up for the Mavis Staples' concert. It her first visit here. Like mother, like son, she already putting together her look for the show and asked me the other day, "I ain't got to wear nothing too dressy do I? Just a regular Sunday outfit will do?" This is just a regular Sunday outfit for her. But I couldn't get all Andre Leon Talley on her and say, "Miss Thing, that's a bit extra. You don't even have to give me that," because . . .
To be continued for folks in the 'hood, because this turned into a far bigger beast than I intended it to.
This morning I saw a tow truck with "Hooked Up On Jesus" written across the side of its tow bed. It reminded me of the fact that I prayed and made a deal with God on Saturday. It was right after I left a showing of Superbad. No, the raunchy and hilarious teen sex comedy rife with homoerotic subtext didn't put me in a religious mood. Well, it kinda did. It reminded me of the shame I felt during adolescent years, when sexual awareness came into conflict with my religious upbringing. It also reminded me that a lot like Seth (Jonah Hill) in the movie, I was the fat kid in love with his high school best friend who resorted to phony overblown heterosexual bravado and smuggled in copies of Oui for us to ogle over during the lunch period. All of it was done in attempts to cover up my gayness.
Added to evocation of old somewhat painful(ly funny) memories, I also felt ashamed of thinking about what a "fun, sexy time" I could have with little George Michael Bluth now that he's all growed up. I got a thing for nebbish fellows. So, um, yeah. There was that. However, I think the reason I decide to reconnect with my spirituality in the movie theater parking lot was because the last time I went there was for an early Sunday showing of Harry Potter (mmm . . . Harry. Don't even let me get started on Daniel Radcl-- Hold on, Chris Hansen's knocking on my door with transcripts of my IMAGINARY chats with Zac Efron ), a church was having service in one of the theaters. Like I said, it was early Sunday morning-- after a late Saturday night. The church had coffee carafes So there was serious internal conflict about recommitting my soul to Christ for a cup of joe or world of wizards and witchery. Hogwarths won out.
This Saturday, I needed more out of God than a cup of caffeine. I needed him to pop open Black Betty's hood and fix what was ailing her. Her "Service Engine Soon" light popped on Friday night. M figured that she probably was way due for dialysis (an oil change), but he wanted to take her to Ford dealer to make sure it wasn't something else. Something else we couldn't afford to fix at the moment. So that had me on edge. The money's a bit thin until the new season starts and M promotion and pay raise kicks in when school starts back up. Hoping that it was the best case scenario rather than the worst, I took Black Betty to Jiffy Lube. They changed her oil, but her warning light was still lit. I figured that she just needed to get her blood circulating a bit and a trip to the movies would help her do that. The movie ended, I went out and cranked her up. The light was still on and that's when I started bargaining with God. The engine light went out on Sunday-- and of course, I forgot what I promised the Big Dude(dudette or whatever you wanna call 'em) in return. My first born? A trip to church? Be a bit nicer to my fellow man?
If it was the last one, I paid my minimum balance due yesterday. I stopped at the grocery store to buy smokes. And I was shamed into only buying one pack, because the woman working the register is the one that always gets on me about smoking . Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear all you nonsmokers, "If you don't care about yourself and your lungs, at least someone else does." I care. It's just a hard habit to break when you grew up in North Carolina in a little village whose biggest employer is R.J. Reynolds Tobacco Company. Of course, I got over the provincialism of the area. So I don't know why the coffin nails are a harder hurdle to cross. "Jumping hurdles is kinda hard when you're out of breath? and exhausted." Anyhow, the last time I went to the grocery store, I had to float a check and the cashier noticed that my middle name was a Elijah (a important prophet across the boards). When I asked for my cigarettes yesterday, she tried a different tact by appealing to my religious sensibilities.
"Are you Christian or Muslim?" she asked.
"My Dad (mumble mumble)," I said.
"Neither?"
Yesterday all I could manage to think up was, "Guess so." She gave me my cigarettes, I was out the door and on my way to work. I spotted my neighbor walking away from the automotive shop across from the grocery store. She didn't see me. I could have very well rode out of the parking and went to work. But I gave her honk and asked if she needed a ride. She did. I drove her home. She complained about how her recent car troubles hadn't happened until she took her car to them the first time. "I hate having to take my car to a mechanic you barely know. Can't trust them," she said. Of course, I could've hipped her to my mechanic. But I barely know Him and I'm still trying to sort out what I owe Him.
The first time, I watched it alone. Thankfully because I was on the verge of sobbing when the survivors begin to loosing their entire families and longtime friends. The second time, I watched with friends and M. According the director, Stanley Nelson, Jim Jones' following was eighty percent African-American. One of my friends couldn't wrap her around the fact that so many black folks would follow a white man so blindly, considering the tumultuous history between the two races.
Before seeing the film, I sort of had the same question. My only other point of reference in regards to Jim Jones was the eighties TV movie Guyana Tragedy: Story of Jim Jones starring Powers Boothe. And I think the memory of that film was altered by Boothe's more recent work. As Boothe has demonstrated with his turns on Deadwood as Cy Tolliver and 24 as Vice-President Noah Daniel few can do scary ass evil motherfucker as well he can. The only thing is that Jim Jones wasn't a scary ass evil motherfucker-- at least in the beginning.
Jim Jones was charming, dynamic and a decent looking fellow. Dig those aviator glasses. Jones was preacher pretty, which is sort of on the same sliding scale of beauty we use for politicians and makes John Edwards a hot young thing (practically a twink) at fifty-three with a $400 haircut. Side note and possible admission of some daddy issues: I used to have thing for Rod Parsley until I realized that he thought my "lifestyle" was such an affront to fabric of civilization and his very being). Hell, I may have taken Jim Jones up on the illicit offer he made to many of his male followers. I definitely know his message of social equality and creating one's own paradise would've piqued my curiosity. Especially when considering the tumult of times in the early sixties and seventies, which the film carefully lays out, I may have been on a plane to Jonestown to escape civil injustices in America. What I'm not too sure of is whether I would've drank the Kool-Aid or taken a shot to the back while high-tailing it towards the jungle.
Which religion is the right one for you? (new version) created with QuizFarm.com |
I'm an unrepentant preacher's kid. So it figures.
Just the thought of what my mother was intimating was disturbing enough for me. So I can imagine the Haggard kid's anguish and confusion brought by having their father's dirty little secrets make the national news. Also is it just me or whenever anybody hears the name Mike Jones on the news, they start humming 'Still Tippin' from the other Mike Jones? Just me. Okay.
