Catholicism as it was shown to me, which is how it is most commonly practiced, is immensely lonely. This is, of course, on purpose. For all the singing in churches and hand shaking and bread sharing, there is a startling lack of community.
I remember sitting in the basement of St. Mary’s church as a child. I remember the face of the woman speaking, reading–the verses she’d chosen. It was the end of the world, explained to us through scripture.
She said this would not be the end of everything–that the rapture was actually a softer thing. It was a normal kind of heartbreak, to die. It seemed to her more acceptable for a child to talk about the end as it is prescribed to them, individually than some kind of apocalyptic shock. So in the stinky, mold-covered church basement, we talked about our own, inevitable deaths. Leaving out collective suffering entirely, she thought, would spare us some kind of pain.
Have you ever tried to read about the rapture? It’s from the Latin raptus “a carrying off, abduction, snatching away; rape.” The plan as it’s written is this: there will be signs (earthquakes, the sun will be darkened and the moon won’t reflect its light, stars will fall from the sky, and heavenly bodies will be shaken.) They seemed to have covered all possible forms of apocalypse which is, if you ask mek, a cop out. Regardless, the dead who believed in God will rise and all current believers will fly up and meet God “in the sky.” Non believers and sinners will suffer the wrath of God here on Earth.
I went looking for some rapture verses (for some light, saturday afternoon reading) and came across a few hardcore, stonecold lines:
“I tell you, on that night two people will be in one bed; one will be taken and the other left. Two women will be grinding grain together; one will be taken and the other left.”
“Where, Lord?” they asked.
He replied, “Where there is a dead body, there the vultures will gather.”
I mean, the belief system propagated by christianity, and explained through the idea of a rapture, is that other people will suffer, but they will deserve it.
The thing about “the god argument” is that it lacks logic–it’s more of an internalized superiority. Much like the “rise and grind” ultra-capitalist mindset of conservative Americans, it seems that the christian belief is that what a person deserves–their worth–is dependent on how strictly they devote themselves to the rules and expectations as they are set before them.
Just work harder. Just don’t get pregnant. Just deliver a child. See where I’m going with this?
They missed the part about Jesus being like, fully a savior, and instead focused on the part about being saved. And I get it, who wouldn’t want an out like that? But see, who else do we know who has internalized superiority and buried guilt.
Exactly.
We know how white people act when given uninterrupted power for hundreds of years, but the question we’re living in is what the hell do we do to combat it? How do we salvage something so, incredibly fucked?
Community, I think. We see people in pain and we help. We boost the voices of people with marginalized identities, relentlessly. This is how we challenge supremacist thinking. This is not a hot take, but an important one. Why I’m choosing to make it is that, funny enough, it’s exactly what the big guy preached in the first place. Help thy neighbor, and all that.
My last post was about anger, and I don’t take any of that back. Anger is at the root of revolutionary action. I don’t think, however, that compassion and anger are opposites. When working in tandem, anger and compassion make change–look at what’s happening in Iran.
I think in my recent anger I may have, for a moment, forgotten that you need both.
I love you. Please forgive the preachy self-importance.
X. A
Girl Seeking Peanut Butter 