Religion: Tradition vs From the Heart

Day 5,598, 12:33 • Published in USA Chile • by Wilker Nath

Religious blogging: here goes! If you so choose, you may now read a heap of explicitly Christian content from yours truly.

Oh yeah, and we’re doing it to the funky sounds of Boney M’s 1979 Sopot performance. Have you ever listened to some of the down-album tracks of the band that came out with the famous “Rasputin” song? I can see how it could be an acquired taste for some, but I can certainly jam to it.

Let’s rock!

https://youtu.be/FYGTT7YhywA

Daddy cool... He sure is.

My denomination happens to be Anabaptist, meaning we don't baptize infants. Baptism has to be a personal decision. It's a willful declaration. It's an outward ceremony to reflect and celebrate an inward change.

At least on paper, that's how it is. My baptism (my second one, I was baptized as an infant) happened in my mid 20s. I'll say it was genuinely a meaningful experience. Above all, I felt welcomed by the community. I felt gratitude at being welcomed. I expected to feel a change in my heart as I got acquainted with God, but the feeling of becoming fully a member of the congregation was what overwhelmed me. The prodigal son expected to be worked like a servant, but instead got a celebratory feast.

I've seen a few baptisms and I've heard about some others since that time. Some of the baptisms are adults and new believers, but perhaps an equal amount are people who are 13 or slightly older. That age seems to be the unspoken rule of thumb for when people should start considering baptism. As far as I know, it's not written down anywhere. It just is because it is.

The realization didn't hit me, though, until I read something. It was a memoir written by one of the older people at my church. He was baptized at 13, and he wrote with candor that he was not ready for it. God wasn't in his heart at the time. He found God later in his teenage years, but that's off the point. It got me thinking about why each individual chooses to go through with baptism.

13, as a number, feels like a traditionally standard age to set for social expectations of baptism. It’s the age that Catholic Confirmation usually takes place. I went through Confirmation myself, and I can say I wasn’t ready for it at that age. I’d also say I wasn’t ready to vote at age 18, and people who’ve heard me talk politics extensively have probably heard me say the 26th amendment was a mistake, but that’s a tangent for another time.

The ideal answer, in my mind at least, would be to say that people should decide on baptism only when they deem themselves to be ready. Only when it comes upon their hearts. I suppose I could understand the tradition-value of wanting to do it at 13, regardless of whether it’s on one’s heart. For my own part, while I recognize the use of tradition in very many places, this is a place where I don’t see it as having a use.

https://youtu.be/9c5yPIQ3LQI

”Yer money or yer life!”

The conversation of tradition touches on something deeper, though. My Sunday School class last week focused around the topic of “What are we doing now that is too law-focused and Pharisee-like? In what areas are we, as a congregation, failing to do the work of relating from the heart, and replacing that work with a simplistic set of rules?”

”You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it;
you do not take pleasure in burnt offerings.
My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit;
a broken and contrite heart
you, God, will not despise.”

There was a variety of input to that from people who came from a variety of religious backgrounds. Ultimately, the tone of the conversations mostly kept around the theme of “Here’s what we now look back on and recognize as having been wrong specifically in our congregation. I wonder what we’re doing today that will be looked back on as wrong years from now?” Memorable examples included female head coverings (there was a lady there, a middle-aged mother herself, who admitted she only wore hers for the benefit of her own mother’s feelings) and a time when men and women were sat in separate sections of the church every Sunday (this stopped when a new church building was built) (I actually would be happy to see this return, not for moral reasons, but because my church’s harmonization during hymns could use some work!)

Being relatively new to a congregation where many families could trace back several generations in the same church, and being from a Catholic background rather than Protestant, I felt my own input wouldn’t be directly applicable to a conversation focusing specifically on this congregation, so I kept many of my thoughts to myself. Nevertheless, my brain was on overdrive remembering some of my own experiences.

https://youtu.be/_FoVCBMkUw0

The most wanted innocent man in Spain

Remembering my Catholic years, the first thing that comes to mind in the question of “rules vs earnestly relating to one another from the heart” is the common argument that most parents have probably had with their kids: not dressing sloppy for church, or for some other occasion. Going to Catholic mass, I got the impression the social stakes of this were higher than most other events. My parents tried to convince my younger self that everyone around me was viewing my outfit with a critical eye, that they would talk about it as soon as I was out of earshot. A favorite tactic of my mom's was the guilt angle "people will judge me because my child isn't dressed well, you're making me look bad."

Being an adult looking back, I can say most people aren’t as judgmental as that, and those that are, I’d prefer not to spend too much time around them anyway. I honestly forget the extent to which my younger self was aware of that. To the question of dressing sloppily or nice for church, I simply say I wear what I wear, my clothes are clean and comfortable, they don’t look out of place for the environment I step into. Focusing on clothes is the act of a vain, judgemental mind, and focusing on loving God and loving our neighbor is much more important. Giving the stink eye to someone who didn’t put effort into their outfit gets in the way of loving each other.

Another example is confession. I know that it can be a much more liberating experience for people who opt-in to it, and there have been times when I’ve been tempted to seek it myself. The memory I have, though, is Catholic school teachers forcing our entire class one-by-one into a confession booth every week. If we said we couldn’t think of anything we did wrong that week, they would tell us to think harder! “It’s impossible to go a week without sinning.” It’s not hard to imagine how a 9-year-old would react to that. I think the practice went to grow more resentment towards time spent in church, than all the good it could’ve been worth.

Intercession of the Saints: while I don’t ask saints for prayer myself, I do understand the idea behind it, and I don’t fault anyone for asking a dead saint for prayer.

I made the above statement to a Baptist friend of mine, and he eagerly jumped to illustrate the following counter-point:

“Intercession isn’t a contest with points. The idea that we can force God to obey us by getting enough people to pray for the same thing is idolatry. God will either act, or He won’t. He will do it on His timeline, not ours. All we need to do is give him an earnest expression of our hearts and minds. That earnest display offered to Him might be all that He’s waiting for. God will do all the work.”

https://youtu.be/l3QxT-w3WMo

I like to think the ancient Israelites who sung Psalm 137 are listening to Boney M and resisting the urge to tap their feet with the beat

Intercession is different from the concept of sainthood itself, which I do actually hold a favorable view of. When children learn history, saints (or other historical figures) are an easy way to give them a memorable snapshot of life in a particular time and place. I think it would be useful for various Protestant sects to start talking about and remembering particular martyrs in a similar way to how Catholics remember saints, though without the intercession aspect.

Genuflecting: It is the general practice of people in Catholic mass to kneel and make the sign of the cross before entering a Church pew. It is also the practice to use holy water to make the sign of the cross before entering or leaving the building and the room in which mass is to be held. I don’t know if there’s a scriptural basis for this, it’s just something that everybody does. When I started going Protestant, I saw no reason to do it there, as nobody in a Protestant church makes it a habit.

The thing that got me thinking deeper about such a small gesture was this: I mentioned in my Fight Club blog post that I practice kickboxing. At the gym I go to, it’s common practice to bow before entering or leaving the practice floor. We also bow to the coach at the beginning and end of each lesson. We bow to the floor to show our respect for the place and the activity; our high regard for the sport we practice and our dedication to our own self-discipline. We bow to the coach out of respect as well, and out of appreciation for being taught that day.

If I bow to show respect in that place, how much more respect do I owe to God?

Therefore, as of recently (as often as I can remember it) I’ve started making the sign of the cross when I enter the worship room before service, and when I leave after service. I’ve also decided to take a knee and make the sign of the cross when I enter or leave a pew for worship. I don’t expect others to do it. I won’t expect my kids to do it. I’m sure many Catholics who do it have never put thought into the reason why. I do it because it’s on my heart. I do it to show God my conscious effort to respect and revere Him. I do it as a nonverbal testament that He deserves to be at the center of everything I do.

https://youtu.be/15nMlfogITw


And now, as far as Catholic traditions go, we come to Priesthood Celibacy……….




………..






……….





………



I dare not speak my true opinions on that. At least not on this website.

Here’s a hint, though.



So what conclusions can we draw? Well, I would say avoid forcing religious activity on people whose hearts aren’t in it, but at the same time, practice that avoidance in moderation.

I’ll give an example. If you’ve seen or read fight club before or after my book review of it, there’s something relevant in there.

“Get rid of him,” Tyler tells me. “He’s too young.” I ask how young is too young? “It doesn’t matter,” Tyler says. “If the applicant is young, we tell him he’s too young. If he’s fat, he’s too fat. If he’s old, he’s too old. Thin, he’s too thin. White, he’s too white. Black, he’s too black.” This is how Buddhist temples have tested applicants going back for bahzillion years, Tyler says. You tell the applicant to go away, and if his resolve is so strong that he waits at the entrance without food or shelter or encouragement for three days, then and only then can he enter and begin the training.

For people freshly coming out of a conversation about outdated traditions being forced on Catholic school kids, this concept might seem to be in the spirit of what religion should be. People should want it first. Maybe not be required to stand without food or shelter for 3 days, but they should want it enough to seek it out on their own with no encouragement or pressure from others. That way, only those who opt-in to the traditional practices can do them and be happy, while those who want nothing to do with it can live their lives in peace.

However, we must balance this with the knowledge that the Church is meant to be a continuation of Jesus’ work on Earth. It is our duty to love God, love others, and to spread the Good News of Salvation as Paul did.

Those are my thoughts at least. What do you think? Leave it in the comments!

https://youtu.be/16y1AkoZkmQ

You didn’t think I’d make a Boney M article without Ra Ra Rasputin, did you?

Stay classy! o>