Self-imposed Closet Eviction

I am a Christian.

Please don’t throw that, sir! Listen, it actually gets worse: I’m a Catholic.

A PRACTICING Catholic. Every Sunday I VOLUNTARILY go to church.

Heads are swivelling and the room is getting steadily colder, but… whew.

I feel slightly like I’ve come out of the closet.

At the start of the year I did Introduction to Postmodern Philosophy as my elective subject. And I would sit in that class every week and listen to a discussion that would, more often than not, make a spiraling descent into a God-bashing sesh, no matter the topic.

I know that I could’ve spoken up. I didn’t say that I was religious – or even ‘spiritual’, as is much more fashionable these days – which was my own fault, but I was too damn nervous that I’d get Nietzsche chucked at me at a rate of five anti-establishment skinny-jeaned hipsters per second. The students in the class were saying things like ‘I can’t believe people are stupid enough to believe in God these days,’ as if these statements couldn’t possibly be offensive to anyone in the class. I’d sit there feeling utterly alienated.

No, I do not self-flagellate; no, there is not a bonfire for burning homosexuals in my backyard; no, I do not yell fire and brimstone and then try to convert heathens. I’m no Puritan. I’m not anti-science or anti-reason. I’m actually quite the balanced person.

I go out with friends. I play music very loudly. I piss off my siblings. I spend far too much money on concerts and boots. My family isn’t perfect. My favourite movie is Death at a Funeral (not the American version; that’s an abomination). I’m a science-fiction nerd. I’ve got several friends and close relatives who are gay. I’ll talk to you about faith and religion if you’re interested. My Dad’s a scientist and an academic and science fascinates me. And I’m happily Catholic.

Your beliefs are your own and I have nothing but utter respect for that. I won’t belittle them. But my beliefs are my own, as well, thanks, not yours for deciphering or providing insightful commentary upon. The times have thoroughly changed, especially in Melbourne: it’s not so much about conversion anymore, so much as un-conversion. I’m sure some people would say, ‘well, it’s time the tide changed after all those years of religious oppression,’ but, man, that’s depressing. Is it right for anyone to be oppressed? Ever? Does it achieve anything other than bitter sadness? I don’t think so. Any true Christian condemns the atrocities done in the name of the Church. The Church itself condemns these atrocities. The Church is not God. It’s made up of humans who make epic mistakes and miscalculations just like any other humans, and, as with any human establishment, it’s susceptible to the corruption and personal evils of those not-so-do-gooders who slip into the ranks. And, by the way, this is by no means a justification or excuse for any crimes committed in the name of religion.

RMIT is supposed to be an open-minded university. When I signed up for some club at the beginning of the year I saw that we had, like, five options for gender on the form. Why can’t we have that kind of tolerance towards religious people? Yes, I do see the ad for the RMIT Christian Union meeting scrawled across the pavement of Bowen St, but that doesn’t make me feel better when half of my lecturers will take any chance to have a stab at religion. Opinion is one thing; degradation and belittlement of other people’s beliefs is another thing entirely.

My faith means that I see the world as the most incredibly beautiful place, on a deeper level than most people. It means I am greatly hopeful, inherently optimistic person. I look at a flower, or the sun, or a human face and I just can’t comprehend how something so intricately lovely and complex isn’t the culmination of a beautiful idea.

And, to close, here’s my answer to a question I’ve been asked a whole lot of times. The Heaven thing. Looking at it logically, I really think I win out either way. If I spend my whole life striving to be the best person I can be, but it turns out that there’s no such thing as Heaven, I’m not going to know, cause I’ll be dead, yeah? And I’ll have spent my life well: joyfully and hopefully and lovingly. But if it turns out that there is a Heaven… well, what can I say? I’ll be laughing.

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