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Today I am feeling very dwojwierny.
I find myself very, very uncomfortable when I see other pagans expressing hatred or contempt for Christianity and/or Christians. It leaves me feeling like . . . like I'm in a room full of people telling Polack jokes.
I wind up feeling that I should understand this. That . . . I'm one of the set of people who should understand this. That this is one of those things that I should be able to extend sympathy for, that this sympathy is almost an obligation upon me as a fellow pagan: that I'm expected to freely commiserate about the iniquities of the Christians and the invalidity of Christianity.
Or at least hold silent when someone sees fit to bend my ear about their contempt, and nod and smile at the hate.
I feel that somehow, because I recognise that pagans are, in many ways, one of those Persecuted Minorities, and because I am one, I should somehow be there, be available, be a healer or at least an ear for those people who need to rant about the Perceived Oppressors and the Hypothetical Majority. Because I'm One Of Us.
Except that I'm also One Of Them.
And even when I was just One Of Us, I never understood the hatred.
I've been through the "you don't have a real religion" arguments. I've been through the devils-and-demons crap. I've dealt with the ignorant, the arrogant, and the hypocritical. I've encountered the sort of evangelical Bible-worshipping nightmare that seems to be the default image of what Christianity is for a huge number of pagans.
And I've met secular Christians, and contemplative Christians, and converts, and raised-that-way folk, militants who want to make it rightfully clear that everyone is welcome in their church, and Christians who won't talk about their faith with others because they don't want to deal with the hate -- because in observing the people around them, they've come to the reasoned conclusion that many of the people they associate with are too blinded by the cross to look at them fairly.
I wonder sometimes if my differing experience is because my parting from Christianity at a child was a no-fault divorce with no alimony paid on either side.
Or, alternately, if I'm from another planet, or an alternate dimension, or something, such that all of the truly despicable Christians have always been somewhere I was not.
I see hate. And I see ignorance. And I see contempt.
And I feel that somehow, I am supposed to listen to this without comment, without correction, with no more than acceptance and understanding. And, if I am by any chance bothered by being subjected to it, I am expected to forgive.
But understanding is too much to ask of me. I find it very hard to understand why a faith so many people have left has such a hold on them to compel such continuing investment, such continuing vitriol. I find it hard to understand why the sweeping statements and then, when someone objects, "Oh, I wasn't talking about your kind."
And forgiveness is very, very hard.
There are times I just want to shout, "Jeranonek! I'm a gods-be-feathered Jeranonek! Take your fucking Polack jokes, fold them until they're all sharp corners, and. . ."
Or just cry.
Or just cry.
(While the current tune as mentioned is, in fact, something I consider a hymn, it is not stalking me; it is a large part of why I am writing this entry.
I find myself very, very uncomfortable when I see other pagans expressing hatred or contempt for Christianity and/or Christians. It leaves me feeling like . . . like I'm in a room full of people telling Polack jokes.
I wind up feeling that I should understand this. That . . . I'm one of the set of people who should understand this. That this is one of those things that I should be able to extend sympathy for, that this sympathy is almost an obligation upon me as a fellow pagan: that I'm expected to freely commiserate about the iniquities of the Christians and the invalidity of Christianity.
Or at least hold silent when someone sees fit to bend my ear about their contempt, and nod and smile at the hate.
I feel that somehow, because I recognise that pagans are, in many ways, one of those Persecuted Minorities, and because I am one, I should somehow be there, be available, be a healer or at least an ear for those people who need to rant about the Perceived Oppressors and the Hypothetical Majority. Because I'm One Of Us.
Except that I'm also One Of Them.
And even when I was just One Of Us, I never understood the hatred.
I've been through the "you don't have a real religion" arguments. I've been through the devils-and-demons crap. I've dealt with the ignorant, the arrogant, and the hypocritical. I've encountered the sort of evangelical Bible-worshipping nightmare that seems to be the default image of what Christianity is for a huge number of pagans.
And I've met secular Christians, and contemplative Christians, and converts, and raised-that-way folk, militants who want to make it rightfully clear that everyone is welcome in their church, and Christians who won't talk about their faith with others because they don't want to deal with the hate -- because in observing the people around them, they've come to the reasoned conclusion that many of the people they associate with are too blinded by the cross to look at them fairly.
I wonder sometimes if my differing experience is because my parting from Christianity at a child was a no-fault divorce with no alimony paid on either side.
Or, alternately, if I'm from another planet, or an alternate dimension, or something, such that all of the truly despicable Christians have always been somewhere I was not.
I see hate. And I see ignorance. And I see contempt.
And I feel that somehow, I am supposed to listen to this without comment, without correction, with no more than acceptance and understanding. And, if I am by any chance bothered by being subjected to it, I am expected to forgive.
But understanding is too much to ask of me. I find it very hard to understand why a faith so many people have left has such a hold on them to compel such continuing investment, such continuing vitriol. I find it hard to understand why the sweeping statements and then, when someone objects, "Oh, I wasn't talking about your kind."
And forgiveness is very, very hard.
There are times I just want to shout, "Jeranonek! I'm a gods-be-feathered Jeranonek! Take your fucking Polack jokes, fold them until they're all sharp corners, and. . ."
Or just cry.
Or just cry.
(While the current tune as mentioned is, in fact, something I consider a hymn, it is not stalking me; it is a large part of why I am writing this entry.
- No more turning away from the weak and the weary
No more turning away from the coldness inside
Just a world that we all must share
Not enough just to stand and stare
Is it only a dream that there will be
No more turning away?
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I know part of it comes from actually reading the source material (bible). Specifically the statement that the greatest commandments are to love got, and then to "Love thy neighbor as thyself".
And so I have to wonder, these folks who hate so vigorously, who claim to be good christians. (I'll leave the non-christian attitudes out of it as I'm not familiar enough with them) If they hate their neighbor so much, and are good christians.... Then they'd have to hate and loathe themselves.
And that REALLY puzzles me.