Pluck's Blog

The back of the pew was hard. I wished I had my seat cushion but I left it in my husband’s car. The retreat leader in front of me clicked on the slide. I squinted to see it but the sunlight made it hard to see. But wait, here it was, in my workbook. I turned my back to the window and looked over the diagram of the Trinity. I had never seen it before. Okay, that’s interesting but what does that have to do with overcoming past hurts?

Weeks ago one of the deacons at my church asked me if I would attend a retreat about healing your life. She had attended the same program while she was in Africa and found it spiritually powerful. She wanted a professional therapist there who she could refer participants to if they needed it.

“Sure,” I replied always eager to be helpful.

This was the first retreat I attended since my dechurching. I rearranged my Friday afternoon schedule so I could be there. Sitting in one of the front pews I tried to understand where the speaker was going. The first four hours focused on praying over others a kind of positive affirmation based on the Bible. There was some demonstration and some opportunity to do it ourselves but it was mostly lecture. I was bored. I thirsted to talk about the religious ideas and issues raised but the program didn’t allow for it.

We stopped for dinner in the undercroft. I  took a seat with the leaders of the retreat and the intercessors. I was curious about how their church fared following the schism in the Episcopal Church. Toward the end of dinner one of the intercessors got up, walked around the table to sit next to me. She placed her hand on my shoulder and said, “We need to pray for those who remain in the Episcopal Church.”

“That may be but as a psychologist I am interested in how and why this happened,” I replied. “That way we can prevent it in the future.”

“There will always be a faithful remnant who will renew the church. That’s God’s will.”

“Yes, but –“ The call came for us to return to the sanctuary. “We will have to continue this conversation later,” I told her. It’s fine to pray, I thought, but that doesn’t mean we shouldn’t take steps to prevent schism. God has given me an inquiring mind and I will use it to understand why these things happen in churches seeking ways to prevent it.

After dinner the retreat leader talked about cults and the occult. Her definition for cult was so broad that it included all religions other than orthodox Christianity. This is ignorant and meaningless, I thought. I want to live a good life and obey God’s commandments but the retreat leaders are taking things to extremes.

The leader began reading off a list of sins that ranged from watching movies like “Poltergeist” to pedophilia.  She made little distinction between those sins for which we already repented from sins that have not yet been confessed. She even talked of confessing our parents and ancestors sins. No way, I thought, I am responsible only for my own behavior and not my families.

I looked at my watched. It was only 7 pm. We had another hour to go. I took out my journal and tried to write my way through it. The retreat leader began leading us in prayers seeking forgiveness for our sins and those of our ancestors. I’m not a Klingon, I thought. I’m not responsible for my ancestors. My throat tightened. I remained silent. I felt walls closing in. These people aren’t the kind of people who will understand and value me, I thought. The longer I sat there the less safe I felt.

Eight o’clock and the retreat leader was still talking. I gathered up my belongings and left as quietly as I could. On the drive home I thought, If they want to talk about evil, I can tell them a few things. Sure people who play with tarot cards are foolish but in my work I have born witness to the survivors of Pol Pot who in my office told me how their loved ones were tortured and murdered.

I don’t need or want a religion that makes me feel sinful for small inconsequential things I may or may not have done and for which I have long corrected. I certainly don’t need to be made to feel guilty for the sins of my relatives.

I want my faith to give me the courage of Abraham who upon learning God planned to destroy Sodom and Gomorrah spoke up and asked God, “Will you really sweep away good and bad together? Supposed there are fifty good men in the city; will you really sweep it away and not pardon the place because of the fifty good men? Far be it for you to do this – to kill good and bad together.”

After listening to Abraham, God agreed not to destroy the cities if there were at least ten good men living there. Lot’s life was spared. I want to have that kind of courage. Imagine being able to suppress your fear as you stand before a force clearly more powerful than yourself long enough to urge the ethical and compassionate use of power.

I don’t want to be submissive before God. Why should I? He knows what is in my heart. He knows I am trying to live a righteous life. As in the song by Robin Mark, “When it’s all been said and done, there is just one thing that matters. Did I do my best to live for truth? Did I live my life for you, Lord?” I want to be able to say yes, I have given it my all. But because I am human I have often failed. I rely on God’s mercy to forgive my failings and at the end of my life to shelter me in his arms.

I do not believe God condemns anyone to eternal damnation. God created us. He knows our stories. When I listen to the stories of men who have done terrible things and I feel compassion, won’t God feel compassion, too?” Surely God is not less compassionate than I am.

Not that there isn’t a price to be paid. But that price is paid here on earth. Godless men live lonely and miserable lives. They are more likely to die early from suicide, accidents and homicides. Does anyone really think Hitler or Saddam Hussein was happy?