Compost

Q: What are your thoughts on religion?

A: From as young as I could remember until I was 12, my parents took me to church. Concordia Lutheran Church is in my memories a house of boredom. Many times I'd fain some sort of ailment and my Dad would have to carry me out to the bathroom. These breaks often lead to father-son mini-adventures. Once freed some our prison pews, my Dad would look down at me with an unmentioned sense of relief saying, "want to explore?" Turns out my Dad disliked the house of boredom almost as much as I did. For a long time that was religion: adventures with Dad.

When I was 15 I agreed to go to Colorado with a next door neighbor on a "hiking trip." I'd never been to Colorado, much less hiking, so I was ecstatic. The trip sounded awesome; 6 days, 5 nights in the wilderness, stars so bright they'd wake you up in the night, and a chance to get away from Kirkwood during the summer. I was sold. Over the course of the trip I alongside 8 other high school students and three Christian ministers hiked through some of the most majestic, remote parts of Colorado. Sometimes I'd stop in the middle of the trail to discover an unforced tear streaming down my face. It was that beautiful. In that setting anyone can be convinced of anything. They could have told me they were all aliens and I was their political prisoner and I would have just wiped the tears from my eyes and nodded my head. When I returned home I promptly sat my parents down at the kitchen table and declared that I had "accept Jesus into my life."

When we got back to Kirkwood I started attending the hiker's church. All was fine for about a year. I loved my youth group leader, he made me laugh and we ate burgers together and talked about girls. I couldn't sing, but I like that the services had music that was sung by real people in a real band and not some dude in a bathrobe--as was the case at Concordia. The hiker's church seemed hip, exciting and refreshing. All was fine and dandy until I realized I was brown.

The summer following my Colorado Christian conversion, I attended a leadership conference held by NCCJ (the National Conference for Community and Justice). It was called Anytown. At this conference each day was devoted to a different "ism." Monday was racism, Tuesday sexism, Wednesday classism etc. For a week I sat through workshops that spelled out systems of oppression, internalized racism and the ways in which dominant groups of people maintain their dominance over other groups of people. I was shocked. It was as if the blanket had been pulled back from atop my head and I could not only see, but I could breath. It was frighteningly amazing. I finally felt like I had the words to describe my experiences. The world became a different shade of color. Gray spots appeared all over my life and for the first time I started to wonder why I was adopted. And once those gates opened I lost all control over the way I saw my life. The bubbled had burst and I was standing in a pool of self denial. Thats when I noticed something interesting; I noticed Whiteness. It was everywhere! Everyone was white! Even Jesus (I'm pretty sure Jesus was Arab)! My shoes? White shoes. My bleached hair? White hair. My parents, family and everyone I had ever loved? White.

I felt trapped. I felt like I was lying to myself. Like my life was costume. I felt so detached from anything Filipino that I didn't even know I was Filipino. That was the saddest thought of all. There was a part of me that was dying. It was then I discovered that if God exists, He/She/It is bigger than Kirkwood, white people or even my sadness. This has always given me a sense of comfort. God is separate from what people make of God.

I've always sensed that there was a God, or something larger than myself. And more importantly, that God, Goddess, Being, Buddha, Muhammad or Spirit is in control. There is a balance. There is order. But there is also chaos. But not because the Spirit in control is demonic or like pain, but because pain and suffering make people human. At the end of the day God is there but more often than not, I'm too lazy to say hello. I should work on that.

I like Christianity because I understand it historically. I like the Bible as a teachable work of art--not some sort of brick to be thrown at strangers, aka "evangelism." And as odd as it seems, Christianity is familiar. Familiar like a compost heap. I understand compost. I know how it works. I think its a beautiful symbol of humanity. But I don't go around making compost everywhere, nor do I want to see compost everywhere. And I certainly refuse to take composting too seriously. Know what I mean? And honestly, I find it hard to not laugh at anyone who takes God too seriously (if indeed God/Goddes is the creater of the universe, people and all the things people do, I'd be willing to wager that God has the best sense of humor).

A lot of people go to church and they get all serious (or they pretend to be serious) about God and life and religion that they forget to listen. I don't go to church because of this. I can't tell you how many times I've gone to a new church and the first thing someone asks me is if I'm Christian. Most of the time I smile and quickly assure them that my soul is A-Ok. But one of these days I'm gonna lose it and pretend like I didn't hear them. What? Can you speak up? I didn't hear you the first forty seven times you asked about my relationship with Jesus.

I guess I look like I need to be saved. I'm saving material. People scan the pews, spot me and squeeze their Bibles till their fingers turn pink.

So, my thoughts on religion? I'm as religious as compost heap.