Author’s Note:

Saved

Confession: I’m optimistically religious. Does it always make sense? No. Do I have any ‘proof?’ Of course not. But I don’t lose anything from believing there’s something beyond this existence, and it makes me a happier, more functional human being, so I figure, why not?

My childhood church, on the other hand, preached religious pessimism. Rejoice! they told me, because if you don’t, you will die and suffer for eternity! The point was not to value life in the present, but instead, to save yourself from damnation in the future. They leveraged fear for all it was worth: fear of death, fear of what came afterward, fear of the god who very well might smite you if you didn’t follow its clearly delineated rules with the utmost perfectionism. In that environment, I felt no room for rejoicing in what I had, only relief for what I’d narrowly avoided. Probably. If I paid your dues, and froze my emotions solid, and kept myself under a tight enough lock.

It felt like manipulation. It felt like bullying. It felt just a bit like an extortionary mobster business: Nice life ya got there, they said, cracking their knuckles under their clergy robes’ long white sleeves. Be a shame if somefin’ were to happen to it. Why doncha just hand it over now, hm? We’ll take reeeaaal good care of it.

I know that this is not the way all organized religion is. But I also know that my experience was not necessarily unique, and that when I was told that I was ‘saved,’ I felt more trapped than ever.