This week I sat in a coffee shop writing. I sat at the window looking out onto the patio. A man on the patio was reading his Bible, enjoying the sunshine and the morning coffee. I laughed at him, no, let me explain, I didn't laugh at him directly.
I laughed at the life-style of which he is in, the life-style I used to prescribe to, try to conform myself towards. A year ago or more, I might have packed up my computer and moved to another table so as not to see him, his activity bringing up flashbacks from that spiritually oppressive time of my life. Even further back, I would have left the coffee shop entirely, unable to explain the uncontrollable shaking consuming me.
But instead on that day last week, I laughed. As I recalled the controlling ways the church turned the loving words of God and Jesus into methods of dominating and submission, I laughed at all the absurd ways they did just that. Instead of feeling that cold feeling of suffocation overwhelm me at the memory, instead of feeling the heartbreak over the friends I'd lost still in that life-style, I laughed. It's all rather absurd when you think about it. And, after all, laughter is the best medicine, right?
A few days before this coffee shop encounter, a woman I work with, a teacher, had casually mentioned that Easter was first a pagan holiday, not primarily Christian. It resonated within me as I reflect on how this last year I'm starting to embrace the earlier spiritual aspects of my younger self.
Then, Good Friday comes around. A friend on Facebook requests assistance with what book to study in the Bible. Without much thought, I answer him with what I recall being taught. "Start in the New Testament and read a chapter a day," I post. And truly, I was not bitter or sarcastic.
That night, at dinner, I talk to my boyfriend, Michael, about the Good Friday and Easter weekend packages of years passed. I tell him about how on Good Friday we'd do our best to whip ourselves into some emotional feeling of contrition, remorse, while inwardly we felt nothing or at best, the opposite. Instead of just attending the Good Friday service and allowing whatever was taught to hit us as it would, we had to fit ourselves into the mood of everyone else, conform so as not to lose points with the leadership and other attendees. Then, come Sunday morning, high on coffee and jelly bean sugars, we'd praise Jesus with "He Is Risen" and you best hide any feelings of depression and unhappiness behind strained smiles of forced mirth.
I say to my boyfriend, "Was our faith genuine?" Yes, it was. "Was the emotion genuine?" Most likely not.
But, still looking back there were times of sweetness even despite all the production that went into the Good Friday and Easter weekend package. The Bible and its profound sweetness did hit me and did leave a lasting effect.
For when all is said and done, I bear no ill will or dislike to the Bible. After reading other spiritual texts this last year, I have come to the understanding that it is one of the World's Spiritual Texts and should be honored as so. ( A side note of import: This is my personal discovery and is not something I need to or will enforce on others spiritual paths. I have had enough doctrinal viewpoints enforced upon me thus I won't do it to another. We all have our paths to spiritual and self-discovery, my path is not to dictate yours nor is yours mine. Nor will enforcing one's views on another cause them to follow.) Thus, when I saw this man at the coffee shop reading his Bible or my friend posting his request on Facebook, I can respond with love at that fond memory. I recall mornings spent at coffee shops, my bible open, pouring through the words reaching down deep into my heart, penetrating and cleansing my soul, the sunlight hitting my face, the coffee warm to the taste. I read other spiritual texts now with similar profundity. I treasure those memories myself spent in personal bible study as a strong undertaking of my spiritual journey. I will not condemn anyone else's personal study and reflection of that Holy Book despite my harsh experiences with the church and the organized religion of Christianity.
I forgive and in that forgiveness, I let go. By letting go, I recall only the good memories, the sweet memories of deep Bible reflection and healing from it, sweet friendships over coffee, pizza, and other goodies, long, heartfelt prayers and good laughs.
Happy Easter and happy spring to all. And, no matter where you are or what you believe, may blessings and love fall upon you.
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