Extreme Right-Wing Christianity or Normal Evangelical?

I grew up Catholic, and my familiarity with Christianity was strongly influenced by that religious perspective. In fact, I’m not aware of even knowing any Protestant Christians until moving to North Carolina in middle school. And so, when I look at mainstream Christianity in the US, when I listen to what people from the most common denominations say, I feel as though it’s both familiar and alien; the words are the same, yet the messages seem different, unsettling even. And as my understanding of Christianity in the US grows, so does my awareness of those differences, and how little my experience of religion seems to match that of many people I know.

I began following the blog Love Joy Feminism last year. She writes about her experiences growing up in an extreme form of Christianity that emphasizes strict patriarchy and gender roles, isolation from anyone who is different, a literal understanding of the bible, and a goal of spreading their message to create (in their world-view, recreate) a theocracy in America. Libby Anne’s most recent post about homeschooling clearly lays out much of what I find frightening and harmful about this religious view. http://www.patheos.com/blogs/lovejoyfeminism/2013/03/homeschooling-under-the-influence.html

Although I have likely not met anyone who is Quiverfull since they are, as far as I know, not a large group, I realized very quickly that I’m not unfamiliar with their ideology (and not because of the Duggars…I only found out about their reality show much later). I knew high school homeschoolers through Girls Scouts who talked about people (like me and another friend) actually being demons. I remember being uncomfortable with what I inferred as a good friend’s family’s apparent patriarchy and their (to me) odd values about marriage, sex, and reproduction. I was aware of the existence of purity rings. I observed the parental focus on "obedience" and authority, and the outright anger at anyone suggesting spanking was not necessary. I had and knew of public middle school and high school “science” teachers who taught creationism instead, and the one who didn’t was too afraid to teach evolution, so he didn’t. I even personally painted over praying hands in a mural I helped work on in my public high school cafeteria (Thankfully no one questioned me). I noticed many people’s complete lack of perspective on cultures and religions outside of their immediate one; their lack of awareness of the specifics of their culture as *theirs* and not as a universal default. Being white, I felt I was treated as “one of them,” part of some privileged in-group, and yet I knew I was really the “other” they despised. Sometimes they would remember and apologize for hateful things said around me, but usually I passed unnoticed. When they thought no “other” was listening, I even heard occasional whispers of slavery as a positive thing, of the Confederacy as the “true,” Christian America, destroyed by the anti-Christian “North” which used abolition as a cover, of Catholics as simply misguided, but Unitarians as actually evil and causing the Civil War.

Yet as I said, I knew no one who explicitly followed the ideology Libby Anne writes about. I lived in a small city, although there is lots of rural farmland around it. The people I knew and encountered were often, though not always, various forms of mainstream Protestant, although some seemed unaware that there was a larger category above such denominations as Baptist and Presbyterian. Many others were simply “Christian,” but no one came from families with dozens of children or dressed in specific ways. They obviously found Girl Scouts acceptable (something apparently too "feminist" and secular for more fundamentalist Christians, espcially shocking since I felt it was too traditional and religious!); some, most went to public school; most had interests outside of their religion; much of what I heard was not even commonly said or (probably) believed, just thoughts, assumptions, and information in the background of day-to-day life.

So that has left me wondering, has Quiverfull, Christian Patriarchy, the Christian homeschool movement, etc. influenced mainstream Christianity that much, or has it simply distilled what Evangelical Christianity really is about? Are these terribly traits really a part of the larger religion, or have they been absorbed from other sources? Or am I seeing patterns that aren't really there? I used to wonder if these problems were artifacts of pre-Civil War southern culture, but I hear similar things from politicians and public figures from other parts of the US. I don’t really know what to make of it all, but it’s frightening.

What is Faith?

In terms of the word "faith," or belief in a deity, I thought I understood what it meant. But I've read some claims about faith that have left me unsure. I've generally understood it as belief in something even beyond reason and understanding. For example, I've often heard it said that there are myteries about God that we cannot understand, and need to take on faith, such as the question of why bad things can seem to happen to good people despite God being all-loving and good. God's plan is beyond human understanding and all that, and to a ceratin extent, I can understand that. From evangelicals I've met, "faith" seemed to refer to a feeling; they knew God existed, they could feel his presence, and they believed because of that.

But lately I have read statements from some very religious Christians that say human feelings are fallible, that they can be misleading, that people should be careful and not just trust their emotions. And I would agree, there is some truth to that. Unfortunately, what does that mean about faith? If feelings shouldn't be blindly trusted, but God is also beyond human comprehension...then why do people believe? What is their faith in God's existence based on?

I realize I am very likely creating a hodgepodge of different religious perspectives here, especially since I know I'm pulling things I've heard from Catholics, Evangelicals, and Fundamentalists. So I do see that one potential answer is simply that yes, in fact, you can trust your feelings, especially since the Fundamentalist claim that you can't seem to only be said in response to people who've questioned their own faith. Still, any thoughts?

Kindness and Civility

I was never strongly religious or particularly attached to my beliefs and religion, and in fact have always been fairly liberal. However, what ultimately pushed me out of religion entirely was certain evangelicals' disrespect of my own feelings and beliefs, and their lack of awareness of or interest in and disrespect towards the strength and personal importance of the feelings, views, and beliefs of the diversity of people around them. I was apparently the "wrong" kind of Christian, but they didn’t even know that because they never asked, just assumed I was like them and demonized everything that wasn’t theirs. I left because it became apparent that the arrogant superiority inherent how these Christians interacted with the rest of the world seemed inherent in any belief that your group has unique access to "Truth," whether your "group" is defined by religion or not. I did not want to be part of that arrogance; for me personally, to believe in any religion meant taking my own feelings of my own religion's "correctness" as proof enough that it is the one true reality while disregarding others who presumably feel exactly the same way about their own perspective. What I wanted was a respectful attempt at understanding me and others, not an attempt at demonizing my views without so much as even asking me what I thought.

To me, reason and rational behavior - how people interact with each other - is what matters, NOT what beliefs or lack of beliefs guide an individual's personal development.

Therefore, if I care about ultimately developing rational behaviors and want to engage others in doing so as well, and if being insulting out of ignorance pushed me away, I CANNOT support the idea that being KNOWINGLY insulting is in any way beneficial to that goal. The strength of my feeling of “correctness” is separate from the reason anyone who disagrees should listen. These evangelicals were convinced that their strategy of belittling other views was the way to convince people that the evangelical one was correct, but it backfired. It hurt me and I wanted nothing to do with those who would hurt others.

That tactic fails no matter what side is using it, no matter who is ultimately “correct.” Average people try to avoid and think less of those who hurt them.

If I value reason and want to have a dialog with people I disagree with, I have to do that by relying on the strength of my argument, not the strength of the emotion I feel about it. Emotions ARE motivating; I want to engage others on issues I feel strongly about, and those who already feel at least somewhat positively toward me may be moved by the strength of my feelings on an issue. So there is a place for emotional appeals. But someone who disagrees or dislikes me, who sees me as hurting them, is going to be motivated by their responding negative emotions to avoid me, think less of me, and not listen what I have to say.

I cannot control what people think of me or how they feel about me. Some people will dislike me no matter what. But I can control how I present myself, and I cannot expect someone to treat me kindly if I do not treat them the same way. I know what a reasonable person (no matter if I share their beliefs or not) is likely to feel hurt or insulted by – I may even be able to figure out what a specific person would feel hurt or insulted by - and I can avoid doing those things if I want them to take me seriously. I can express my own feelings of being hurt without taking that out on others; I can inform them that I am angry without simply venting my frustration at them, just as I can also tell someone I love them without inappropriately engaging that emotion. And if I conclude that a person will never take me seriously or hear what I have to say, I will not waste my time and energy and instead stop engaging them.

It’s something that takes effort, and I know I know I still need to work at. But to me, that is what it means to respect someone on the level of basic decency: to recognize that they have feelings like I do, that we are equal on that front, and to not abuse, take advantage of, or belittle the importance of those feelings to the person experiencing them. To treat them decently, like imperfect human beings we all are, even if I don’t like them. I can’t change someone’s mind, challenge what’s important to someone, without getting them to sincerely listen to me, and I can’t do that without first showing that I respect their feelings, even if I disagree with the reason for them and ultimately will tell them so.

A bit TL;DR, but this: http://www.patheos.com/blogs/camelswithhammers/2013/02/the-camels-with-hammers-civility-pledge/ was conveniently posted while I was in the middle of writing this. I think it pretty much details what I'm aiming for.

Good and Bad in the American Gun Debate

“The only thing that stops a bad guy with a gun is a good guy with a gun.”

“Guns don’t kill people, people kill people.”

Statements like these got me thinking that there is a fundamental difference in how pro-gun and anti-gun people perceive “good” and “bad.” Pro-gun supporters say things that seem to suggest that they recognize that there are “bad” people in the world, people who would harm others, and so “good” people need to be able to own guns to protect themselves. In this sense, it can acceptable for good people to kill bad people, but not the other way around. The “goodness” or “badness” of the action comes from who’s doing it, not just what they do. Or rather, what they do is an expression of their inherent “badness,” implying that an inherently “good” person wouldn’t kill outside of “acceptable” reasons, like self defense.

Anti-gun people seem to take the position that the action, KILLING, is what is “bad” (if perhaps sometimes necessary), not the PERSON, and a “bad” action is not necessarily a reflection of the overall integrity of the person doing it. From this point of view, the world is not so neatly divided into “good” and “bad” people, but “average” and “extremes.” meaning anyone, even a generally “good” person, is capable of “doing bad,” i.e. killing. Or to put it another way, there is no inherent lifelong distinction between a “good” and “bad” person, except perhaps as defined by an accumulation of “good” or “bad” actions. Again, context matters (such as self defense), but this position implies that while the context defines the action, it does not necessarily define the person. (Ironically, I feel like this position is most in line with the expression “hate the sin, love the sinner,” a very Christian statement, yet I seem to see the more religious people supporting pro-gun ideas.)

These differences are significant. If you believe some people are inherently good and some inherently bad, you must either think there is a way to tell the difference (to determine who should have legal access to guns/be responsible for protecting others, and who should not), or you think there is no way to tell until a “bad” person acts, so everyone should have access and let the outcome be what it is. If you take the position that “good” people can do bad things, it seems more reasonable to limit guns because even the most well-intentioned person can cause harm. This is particularly true if you believe most people are decent and not prone to “bad” actions; this means “average” people may very well be the cause of much gun-related death, and the only way to be “responsible” is not keep a deadly weapon around that can endanger yourself and others.

I feel there must be psychology research into these issues that can suggest practical solutions (certainly, there’s plenty of philosophical debate about “evil”). But what do you think? Am I even on the right track with this line of thinking?