Chosen, redeemed or other?

Spring. Rebirth. Growth. Light. Renewal. This is the time of year for beautiful, inspiring concepts.

It is also the time for some of the most important religious “holy days” in the Judeo-Christian tradition.
This year I find myself most depressed considering the religious holidays of Good Friday, Passover, and Easter.  I grew up as a Catholic, had many Jewish friends, and still consider myself a theist. Leaving the church was a lengthy and painful process, and for decades I assumed that Catholicism just wasn’t for me.  It wasn’t until recently that I started questioning how Judeo-Christian beliefs affected the underpinnings of our society in ways that aren’t always wholesome.

Certainly there have always been people of faith committed to a liberal way of living – fighting for social justice, emphasizing communal ideas and doing all sorts of good.  Yet most have never stopped to consider how some of the core ideas of their religion might actually be contributing to the suffering they work to alleviate.

Consider the Passover story.  God sent the angel of death to kill the first born infants of the Egyptians or of any Jews who were too lazy or hapless to apply sheep’s blood to their door frame.  Think about it.  God sent an angel to kill innocent babies.

Yes, the Jews were enslaved by the Egyptians and had every reason to strive for freedom and justice. No doubt about it.  Yet as this story of the angel of death became part of our collective psyche, it is clear to see one reason why so many wars have a religious component.  It is clear to see why “collateral damage” damage is acceptable when doing God’s will. If God is okay with taking the lives of innocent humans to achieve a legitimate goal for his “chosen” people, we can commit any violence as long as God is on our side.

The Christian redemption tradition is equally troubling. The belief is that an all-loving, all-wise and all-powerful deity became so offended by human beings who exercised the free will that He gave them, that He decided that all humanity would suffer in hell for eternity. All human beings condemned to suffer for eternity.  Okay, He relented and sent His only son to be tortured and abused and killed, in order to atone for the fact that two humans had disobeyed His rules.  Never mind that He had given them free will. Never mind that He had tempted them.  Never mind that He is great and complete and loving.  The only thing that would satisfy him is the blood of His child. Never mind, too, that only certain people were redeemed.

As these ideas crept into our collective psyche, violence became the acceptable remedy for all kinds of wrongs. Forgiveness can come only after retribution. Many people condone the death penalty.  Many people practice corporal punishment on their kids.  Many spouses smack their partner around to teach them to be better.  And many of us accept violence against us as part of God’s will.  His Son’s suffering wasn’t sufficient.  Apparently, God wants us to suffer.  We are told it is His will and that is somehow increases our mojo with Him. Christ got to return to heaven after his suffering and we are taught that the greater our suffering, the greater our reward will be in heaven.

Add this divine endorsement of suffering to the fact that humans who suffer violence have a tendency to inflict it on others, and we have a recipe for ongoing disaster.

Over the coming weeks we will hear these stories in synagogues and churches.  We will hear them told as examples of God’s goodness and love and forgiveness.  Good people will take them in and sincerely strive to better themselves and the world.  The darker implications of these beliefs will not be discussed.  I believe they need to be.  We need to consider whether the same beliefs that call us to the best within in us, also harbor seeds of violence.

This diary is the searching of one who is neither chosen nor redeemed. I welcome your thoughts and I wish all of us peace and wisdom and love in this season of renewal.

Author: Kahli

Mother. Chicagoan. Actor. Dean supporter. Kos refugee.