This evening I am introducing a new series \u2013 my contribution to the \u201cMeet the Nones<\/a>\u201d meme out there<\/span>\u00a0. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n I have been mulling over (uh, stewing furtively about) an in-depth response to a\u00a0particular\u00a0author\/pastor from within my own tradition<\/a> for quite a while. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Back in 2011 Lillian Daniel posted \u00a0<\/span>\u201cSpiritual but Not Religious? Please Stop Boring Me\u201d<\/a>\u00a0on Huffington Post and I was shocked, dismayed and\u00a0saddened\u00a0by how utterly un-pastoral and alienating this post was. Rather than\u00a0demonstrating\u00a0a sense of compassion or\u00a0extending\u00a0a loving\u00a0a hand of\u00a0hospitality, she\u00a0demonstrates\u00a0the strident\u00a0hubris,\u00a0cloistered\u00a0condescension\u00a0and\u00a0dismissive\u00a0asshatery that\u00a0confirms exactly what\u00a0many Spiritual But Not Religious folks have come to expect from the church.<\/span><\/p>\n Her post stuck in my craw for quite some time but when her same tone of condescending, out of touch\u00a0superiority\u00a0showed up in a NYT article<\/a> I was\u00a0compelled\u00a0to finally read her book\u00a0<\/i><\/span>When \u201cSpiritual but Not Religious\u201d Is Not Enough: Seeing God in Surprising Places, Even the Church <\/i><\/a>\u00a0<\/i>which turns out to be equally bitter and utterly unhelpful. I continued my search for some glimmer of compassion and found an interview\u00a0interview\u00a0from back in 2013 on Religion News Service<\/a>\u00a0 that was also unapologetically strident and completely unwelcoming \u00a0\u2013 this quote from that interview seems to sum up her persistent attitude \u201cAny idiot can find God alone in the sunset.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n (BTW \u2013 I looked around and found that I\u2019m not the only one genuinely concerned<\/a>\u00a0about her message.)<\/p>\n So first, I needed to I think long and hard about why her work is ticking me off\u00a0and out of no where (or everywhere) it came to me. Ms. Daniel, in her writing, disdainfully\u00a0disregards those who have been deeply wounded by the church.\u00a0\u00a0<\/i>What\u2019s more, rather than extending an extravagant welcome\u00a0to the wounded, it\u2019s as if she\u00a0adamantly admonishes \u201cDon\u2019t you know your life is\u00a0meaningless without the church you\u00a0narcissistic\u00a0dumbass!\u201d Nice marketing!<\/p>\n Now I want to believe that Lillian Daniel is a lovely woman, a caring pastor and an all around great gal \u2013 really. I am though very worried about the message her work sends to those who might very well need a community of faith the most. I do know, and boldly claim, that in the UCC, she is the exception to the rule of graciousness that we seek daily to live into better. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Soooo \u2013 I thought it would be a good idea\u00a0to seek out and lift up a few stories (other than mine) that illustrate why some, likely many, no longer find church tolerable, relevant or even faithful. \u00a0I\u2019m starting with a story that was shared with me just this last week by a friend whom we shall call TJ to protect his friends and family.<\/span><\/p>\n She was standing at the kitchen window watching her ruddy 3-year-old playing in the back yard when she saw him lean back a bit, gazing up as if he had just seen the the vast blue Georgia sky for the very first time. She stood stark still, watching as he slowly lowered his tiny frame into the patchy St. Augustine that sprawled underneath gangly dogwoods and a shiny new swing set.\u00a0\u00a0With the dish towel hanging limp in her hands she watched her son consider the cottony clouds squeezing out of the azure arch above him. And they all stood still for just a moment \u2013 mamma, son and the firmament that fomented his first theological inquiry.\u00a0\u00a0Later as the world resumed its spin on its cattywampus axis, TJ wandered into the kitchen as asked \u201cMommy, who made God?\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n TJ would be raised lovingly and faithfully in the Presbyterian church \u2013 PC (USA) y\u2019all \u2013 and as he grew he believed that the church was the place to ask those pesky\u00a0questions\u00a0questions like \u00a0\u201cwho made God?\u201d and \u201cwhat happens at the edge of infinity?\u201d but as time passed he learned that the people of church seemed only interested in rote memorization and the dull, numb regurgitation of what they had been fed.\u00a0<\/span>But still he showed up because he had an innate\u00a0curiosity\u00a0and longing for the divine.<\/span><\/p>\n Fast forward to the summer of when 1980 TJ was all of 15 and full of the kinetic energy of an American teenage boy.\u00a0\u00a0After two sessions at \u201cthe most amazing place on earth\u201d, also known as Highmeadow Camp, his mom was looking for a new experience (and something to do with the lad) for the remainder of the summer. <\/span><\/p>\n To the great excitement of Grammy, mom chose a church summer camp that was the favorite of one of the largest Presbyterian churches in the southeast.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n So one flat, hot, nasty summer day, TJ and a yellow bus teeming with teenagers headed out of Atlanta to Hard Labor Creek state park for a week.\u00a0<\/span>After what seemed an eternity of gangly legs sticking to pleather seats winding along nauseating south Georgia roads the pimply Christians pulled up to the mosquito infested shore of\u00a0Camp Daniel Morgan.<\/span><\/p>\n [side note \u2013 also the site\u00a0where\u00a0Friday\u00a0the\u00a013th VI was filmed] \u2013\u00a0<\/span>http:\/\/youtu.be\/i0hpg5lokG0?t=1m24s<\/span><\/p>\n Boys and girls were ushered across the field and into the mess hall for orientation. After the obligatory reading of the rules and a \u201cJesus is my BFF\u201d prayer, the camp counselors started chanting, low and slow at first, then getting louder and faster \u201crun around the hall, Run Around The Hall, RUN AROUND THE HALL\u201d, fists pounding on tables. Cockroaches and teenagers blinked with wide-eyed fear and one by one the kids were pushed into the aisle to run around the mess hall. After a couple of frenetic loops the front door was flung open and one by one, kids were pointed out the door to be greeted by a bucket of cold water thrown into their faces. After about a dozen kids one girl hit the threshold and slipped on the mossy, wet steps to land\u00a0perpendicularly\u00a0on a broken leg. Whisked away, TJ now\u00a0reflects\u00a0blessedly, she missed the week of tedium and hazing in store for the remaining, fledgling faithful.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n As TJ now recalls it, each day was set in stone with hours of bible study, devotionals and the choice of two outdoor activities \u2013 volleyball or softball \u2013 neither of which he was particularly good at. So after a day or so of the mandatory fun, TJ snuck off into the wilderness to read a book he\u2019d smuggled into camp.\u00a0One afternoon, late in the week while he was\u00a0happily\u00a0perched reading, he heard the crunch of tires creeping closer and looked up to see a jeep load of baseball-wielding counselors. \u201cWhy are you out here reading?\u201d \u201cWhy a\u2019int you playing ball with the other kids?\u201d \u2013 shaking the bats to make their message clear. \u00a0Terrified, back he went.<\/span><\/p>\n Campers became aware of \u201cThe Recipe\u201d slowly over the week. After each meal the campers would scape leftovers into a trash can at one end of the mess hall. No one thought anything of it until rumors started seeping in through the rickety walls of the cabin. \u201cDon\u2019t be bad or you\u2019ll get The Recipe\u201d.<\/span><\/p>\n Now the volleyball court was out back of the mess hall and one itchy afternoon TJ noticed a stinking, 50-gallon drum surrounded by a thick swarm of flies stewing\u00a0on the loading dock.\u00a0\u00a0\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n By Thursday everyone knew. <\/span> The Recipe was the drum full of fetid scrapings festering on that loading dock. Word was, The Recipe was to be dealt to whoever was bad. Everyone imagined\u00a0what would happen but no one knew what infractions would merit The Recipe.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n In the wee hours of\u00a0Friday night, TJ heard the snickers and giggles of fellow campers creeping underneath his cabin window.\u00a0\u00a0The next thing he knew boys burst in clutching water balloons and an a water balloon fight of epic proportions ensued.\u00a0\u00a0By the time the counselors got there everyone was soaked and crumpled with laughter on the sagging wood floors. With hard eyes and firm grips the aqua-perps were removed from the scene of the crime.<\/span><\/p>\n The next morning as kids lined up to either load onto the wheezing yellow school bus or hop into parents\u2019 cars, the 50-gallon drum was rolled out.\u00a0The water-ballon wielding boys were plucked from lines and\u00a0forced to the ground, arms and legs pinned by counselors.\u00a0<\/span> TJ was also pulled from his car-rider line, a tin cup of The Recipe thrust in his hand.\u00a0\u00a0\u201cThrow it on him.\u201d\u00a0barked the counselor.<\/span><\/p>\n Every \u201caggrieved party\u201d was handed a cup of The Recipe as \u201coffenders\u201d were held down to receive their punishment.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n \u201cI went stone cold. I didn\u2019t want to do this but I was scared it would happen to me. I\u00a0went\u00a0cold,\u00a0left my body and prepared to throw the putrid cup of slop on him. Just as he yelled one more \u201cNO!\u201d I half-heartedly tossed the slop and it slushed into his mouth.<\/span><\/p>\n The clean-up was a blur but\u00a0the\u00a0damage was done.<\/span><\/p>\n TJ\u2019s mom and Grammy later pulled into the dusty parking lot and he slid\u00a0into the backseat to numbly endure the chipper inquiry of two excited women. After a half-dozen buzzing questions he finally he broke down and told them the truth.\u00a0\u00a0\u201cNot only was this the most boring week I\u2019ve ever had but they were assholes.\u201d <\/span> He tried to tell them about all that had happened but Grammy would not hear it. \u201cThat\u2019s not true!\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n And Grammy never did hear it. She died at 98, just as the church was gasping in\u00a0her own death pangs, not knowing that TJ\u2019s Christian summer camp summed up most everything he had experienced in the church up to that point \u2013 \u201cboring, pedantic, assholes.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Fifteen years later when a\u00a0spiritual\u00a0crisis ruptured his family \u2013 a dear friend lost a baby an hour after a full-tern birth \u2013 his angry questions about the omnipotence and benevolence of God were explored in his tight-knit and tiny community of\u00a0\u00a0\u201cspiritual but not religious\u201d because he had long since lost any faith in the church to address the real trials of life. \u00a0There in his SBNR \u201ccongregation\u201d, \u00a0meeting in the upper room of an urban\u00a0apartment dwelling, he found thoughtful, faithful\u00a0fellowship and a place to discern the great question. You know, THAT<\/em> question \u2013 if God is all powerful and all good,\u00a0how the hell does shit like that happen? And TJ\u00a0and his community were able to\u00a0comfort one another and find that uneasy peace\u00a0that\u00a0is humanity considering the mystery of The Eternal.\u00a0<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n Now I think y\u2019all know by now\u00a0that\u00a0I believe that community is critical. I\u00a0believe that a community of faith with which one can\u00a0explore\u00a0our longing for God, acknowledge our\u00a0interdependence\u00a0and answer the\u00a0call to be the hands of feet of God in the world can not\u00a0only\u00a0feed us, but truly be the force that bends the\u00a0arc of the universe\u00a0toward\u00a0justice. \u00a0But as long as\u00a0church\u00a0folks, leaders none-the-less, stubbornly refuse to acknowledge and look\u00a0critically\u00a0at how\u00a0deeply the church has wounded others, as long as\u00a0willfully\u00a0stubborn\u00a0pastors\u00a0are disdainfully\u00a0dismissive\u00a0rather\u00a0than lovingly pastoral, the church will continue to fail at being disciples of the One the religious elite (in\u00a0collusion\u00a0with\u00a0the\u00a0state) slaughtered for not being, as I understand it \u2013 spiritual but not religious. \u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n Lord Jesus, help us transcend\u00a0our\u00a0arrogance\u00a0so\u00a0that\u00a0we may truly\u00a0extend an Extravagant<\/a>\u00a0welcome to those the church has wounded.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n For more about\u00a0walking\u00a0with those wounded by the\u00a0church\u00a0please\u00a0check\u00a0out Reba Riley and her work with Post Traumatic Church Syndrome<\/a>.<\/span><\/p>\n
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