I’m somewhat of a melancholy mood this morning. Today is Easter. But we are not going to church. My wife and I discussed going. However, it seemed somewhat sacrilegious that we go. After all, we haven’t gone all year. In fact, we haven’t gone for quite a while. So, what’s the use of showing up today?
And the guilt is setting in. I grew up in the church. In fact, I come from a family of preachers. Both my step-father and my father are ministers. I have several uncles who are ministers. I even have several family members who are high in the echelon of the Colored Methodist Episcopal (CME) church.
I wonder why I am denying my family the rich experience that I was a part of growing up in the church. I have some ideas. For one, I’d like to blame my reluctance to attend church on Christians. Christians and their actions have given Christianity a bad name. I believe that they have ceased acting like Christ, but have instead become smug and self-righteous, confident of their own infallibility.
Could it be the acquisition of knowledge? Early in grad school I found myself questioning the very existence of a god. My father told me that this is natural. Out of this questioning, my faith would grow even stronger.
There are a number of other reasons (or excuses) I could give, but none seem sufficient.
But a few minutes ago my son told me some joke he heard a comedian make about Easter. It was wholly inappropriate, and I reproved him for even repeating such a thing. However, I really don’t think I have the right to admonish him so severely. After all, he hasn’t been taught to respect the religious experience. He has not been taught the value of spirituality. I have taught him many things, and he has proven himself intellectually gifted; however, I have not served him well spiritually.
So, I guess what has come of this Easter is that I realize I have a responsibility to my family that I have not met. Maybe there is an afternoon service somewhere.
And the guilt is setting in. I grew up in the church. In fact, I come from a family of preachers. Both my step-father and my father are ministers. I have several uncles who are ministers. I even have several family members who are high in the echelon of the Colored Methodist Episcopal (CME) church.
I wonder why I am denying my family the rich experience that I was a part of growing up in the church. I have some ideas. For one, I’d like to blame my reluctance to attend church on Christians. Christians and their actions have given Christianity a bad name. I believe that they have ceased acting like Christ, but have instead become smug and self-righteous, confident of their own infallibility.
Could it be the acquisition of knowledge? Early in grad school I found myself questioning the very existence of a god. My father told me that this is natural. Out of this questioning, my faith would grow even stronger.
There are a number of other reasons (or excuses) I could give, but none seem sufficient.
But a few minutes ago my son told me some joke he heard a comedian make about Easter. It was wholly inappropriate, and I reproved him for even repeating such a thing. However, I really don’t think I have the right to admonish him so severely. After all, he hasn’t been taught to respect the religious experience. He has not been taught the value of spirituality. I have taught him many things, and he has proven himself intellectually gifted; however, I have not served him well spiritually.
So, I guess what has come of this Easter is that I realize I have a responsibility to my family that I have not met. Maybe there is an afternoon service somewhere.
0 comments:
Post a Comment