09.27.2007 = JAYPLAY
speak
Riding the Rollercoaste of Religion
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For some, religion is nothing but a blessing. For Chris Horn, it's been one wild ride.
The pews were always hard at St. Joseph's parish, but every time the congregation went to
kneel, I'd put all my weight on the edge of the wooden bench so that I didn't have to rest my bony knees on the lumpy kneelers. When I was six, church not only physically hurt, it was a chore and a bore.The discomfort I felt every Sunday as a child
By Chris Horn
has since turned into uneasiness with religion I can't seem to shake off.
My mom grew up in a German-Catholic household and was dead-set on raising her children in the same fashion. Every mass, I wondered if my dad, a pseudo practicing Southern Baptist, was thinking the same thing I was: What in the world are we doing here and when do we leave? From ages six to 12, I was more curious than religious.
Every time I stepped into the sanctuary, I wondered why the cross above the altar had a replica of a dying Jesus or why the congregation would recite prayers in monotonous unison
"Why do we do the sign of the cross before we get in the pew?" I always asked.
"It's genuflecting,"my mom answered.
"Why do we do it?"
Now that I'm 21 and a little more learned, I understand the nearly 2,000-year-old hegemon of tradition that is the Catholic Church, but at age 12, these things didn't seem like worship to me. They seemed like rules
"Just because."
and obligations.
Many of my questions went unanswered, mostly because
my mom didn't know what to say nor did she have the will to find out. My mom battled with her beliefs for a couple of years until 1996, when she was saved following a passion play at a local non-denominational church and decided that my little brother and I
would join her in her search for answers. We inevitably left Catholicism behind and became Southern Baptist.
Whereas the Catholics in my church conformed to a hierarchy of priests and archaic dogma, I later found that Baptists conformed to each other, setting a high precedent of praise, worship and religiosity.
My mom took us to a Christian store to get our new Bibles—we never took Bibles to mass—and vibran WWJD pens that we used to write sermon notes. We were on our way toward becoming what some people refer to as "Jesus freaks."
The spirited singing and anonymous "Amens!" took some getting used to, but the uplifting services were completely opposite of the stoic Catholic masses I grew up with, which was a breath of fresh air. I was now a member of a church that offered answers to my meaning-of-life-and-where-do-I-fit-in-it questions, but I ultimately lacked the faith to believe what they told me.
I'm sad and almost embarrassed to say that in 1999, at age 13. I rerettably forced
something on myself that I didn't fully understand or believe. Amid my pastor's talk of Y2K, imminent Armageddon and eternal salvation, I naively succumbed to the subtle demands of my church and became a baptized, born-again Christian.
I struggled with my decision after New Year's 2000, when there were no computer glitches, no asteroids and
that made me question my faith further.
no signs of Jesus. My desire to find the truth waned and I lost confidence in the church in which I was beginning to feel at home. To add to my disdain, I was in the process of fighting a more complex spiritual battle
In my post-pubescent years, finding boys attractive was more than just playground curiosity. What I thought was a
"I WAS IN THE PROCESS OF FIGHTING A MORE COMPLEX SPIRITUAL BATTLE THAT MADE ME QUESTION MY FAITH FURTHER"
phase turned out to be a reality; a reality that conflicted with what I was being taught and everything I worked to achieve spiritually. How could I justify being gay and a Chris-
tian? Choice or not, I couldn't change how I felt. Fear and guilt replaced joy and reverence.
My heart, mind and body were telling me one thing, while my church told me something else.
"God hates sin," my dad always
said. Well, did that mean God hated me? Was I destined for eternal damnation?
I forfeitled my entire spiritual upbringing and to this day I don't regret it. My college experience has enlightened me intellectually, so much so that my feelings on religion evolved from a simple spiritual discourse to a complete defiance of faith-based thought.
All was lost.
My bible sits in a box in my closet at home. I chuckle sometimes when I see it, like when you see an awful pants you wore in the eighth grade. What in the world was I thinking as i sat there, jotting down empty words with no comprehension of what they truly meant?
At the same time, I find myself riding the fence. I do believe in a higher power. From my older brother's premature death in a car accident to my
mom's eviction notice and welfare situation, the traumas I have endured have assured me that there is something out there that helps us rise above situations that seem to be out of our control.
I believe human beings inherently search for answers to the unknown. We can reason and debate and experiment all we like, but our existence isn't set in stone nor does it have boundaries.Some people eventually find religion, or it finds them.Others simply aren't looking.I constantly wonder what my spiritual future holds.Whether it's a Zen philosophy such as Buddhism or a more tolerant denomination of Christianity, I know that I will eventually embrace something.
I still have questions, but the "just because" answers of my youth no longer satisfy me. I crave a spiritual wholeness that will only come when I take those responses to heart.