[prerequisite: please read Losing My Religion Part 1]
Some of my angst springs from the flaws that are inherent in any formal gathering of human beings. Organization structures, bylaws, traditions, and unspoken rules of conduct can be found from the boardrooms of the most powerful multinational conglomerates to the humblest little country churches.
These scaffolds of human interaction aren’t evil. A man once challenged me to consider why churches need committees and ‘Rob’s Rules of Order’. I thought it was obvious: people weren’t filled with the Holy Spirit! My mentor commented on my demonstration of spiritual kaka and said it’s because we can’t get along. Wisdom often shows herself in the blatantly obvious.
Formal organization of some kind is as necessary for the church as your skeletal system is for you. But a quick look at the Christian religion worldwide will show you an organism of bones covered with a paper mache of ancient scripts, statements of faith, worn out tradition and dogmas. Where is the heart? What is the heart? Good questions, but it's important to note first that the answers can be found in the trappings of the the Christian religion.
What I began to suspect years ago is that there may be a secret society hidden behind all the altar calls and choir robes. A group of people for whom church and maybe even the Bible (I'm going to get in trouble for that one) were merely the props on a stage where real drama was actually taking place. A true fellowship where any democrat, republican, conservative, liberal, woman, man, child, Arab, African, Native American, prochoice, homosexual, homeless person, or convict could conceivably be closer to God than even I was.
The more I began to watch for people belonging to this movement, the more real the possibility became that I was on to something. There were no obvious signs. There were no secret handshakes that I could discern. Looking at the hymnbook from a distance while squinting cross-eyed didn’t reveal any hidden symbols. These people seemed to weave themselves in and out of the fabric of both church and secular life in a way that made them all but disappear. And yet what they’d leave behind made their constant presence undeniable.
They left behind hope. They demonstrated a faith that was more than smoke and mirrors. They loved. Perhaps in the presence of these mystics could be found the answers to my deepest longings.
(more to come...)
