Those Horrible Catholics Down the Street…

Those Horrible Catholics Down the Street… 2015-01-10T21:38:07-05:00

… That would be my family, of course. The same family that marked the arrival to our new home with big Catholic statuary in the yard, announcing to all … the papists are coming, the papists are coming!

My evangelical neighbors have been cautious with us when allowing their children to play with my son. After all I let my son read Harry Potter and Greek mythology, which I’ve heard is tantamount to devil worship. Oh, and then there’s the statues. And the worship of statues. And statues worshiping statues.

This weekend I just learned that my evangelical neighbors in the compound next door use my Catholicism as a litmus test for evil, pronounced eeee-vil. If it’s something I like or endorse or let my kid play with it incurs their Evangelical Stamp of Evil™.

Case in point – When the Evangelical’s son said he wanted Skylanders for Christmas his parents, unsure about the evilness of said game, called to see if I let my kid play this particular video game. Then they requested the Catholic kid bring over his Skylanders for a full Evangelical Inspection. The end result; Skylanders was deemed Satanic and their innocent Evangelical son lives another day safe from the influence of demonic Catholicism.

But it was a little more than that. Their son told me that his parents shield him from any influence of evil. He can’t even read Lord of the Rings or watch the movies. The same of the world of Narnia and it’s monsters. I wonder how the edit the Devil out of the Bible.

I understand the desire to preserve the innocence of a child, but children need fairy tales and stories full of fearful monsters, not to glorify evil but to teach them that good always triumphs. What good is shielding children from the existence of evil if they never learn what defeating it looks like?

“Fairytales don’t tell children that dragons exist; children already know that dragons exist. Fairytales tell children that dragons can be killed.” ― G.K. Chesterton

What a sad, unadventurous boyhood.


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