Navigating judgement day

At the close of a religious studies class last week, I talked to my friend about mentioning my youth group discussions so frequently.

“I just don’t want people to think I’m in church all the time,” I said.

“Yeah,” she said. “I try to keep my Christianity on the down-low because people tend to think you can’t be a person of faith and an academic.”

That was one of many situations that have been nagging me for weeks.

I dread Saturday-night questions like “Why do you have to leave early?” or “What are you doing tomorrow?”

I cringe and say casually, “I have church. But it’s just because I really like to sing in the choir.”

The embarrassment and defensiveness that color my tone when I admit to spending a lot of time in church are reflective of two troubling issues: my own insecurity and society’s disdain for the religious.  

In academia, there’s a subconscious assumption that I cannot grasp the complex truths about life, death, society, the origins of humanity and religions themselves because I’m filtering it all through a thick lens of convictions about what I believe is “true.”

That couldn’t be farther from the truth. The belief that science and knowledge are the enemies of religion is senseless. Religion is meant to be questioned, studied, examined from every angle. I have questions about all faiths, and that’s why I pursue them in church and the classroom.

“Open-minded Christian” is not an oxymoron. I trivialize the joy church brings me because I don’t want to alienate myself from those who don’t agree with, believe in, support or value religion the way I do. In reality, I’m only perpetuating the problem.

I remember telling a high school acquaintance that I enjoyed attending church every week following a particularly heated social debate in Advanced Placement Government. She gaped at me, eyes wide. “But ... you’re so liberal.”

Christianity as a whole has become synonymous with blind adherence to doctrine and hypocritical condemnation of anyone not “like us.” So I portray my church involvement as insignificant when I encounter someone I think may feel that way because I resent that association deeply.

One of the countless characteristics that drew me to Bloomington was its diversity.

The last thing I want to do is put up a wall between me and the new people I meet by declaring membership to an organization that doesn’t exactly have the best reputation for open-mindedness.

I love going to church because I find the old-fashioned hymns breathtaking. Poetic words, vivid imagery and beautiful melodies create a truly uplifting experience. I also love going to church because unconditional love and kindness are comforts I find priceless.

The spectrum of remarkable individuals I’ve met in church stretches across every single one of those pesky categories: income, theology, race, gender, age, sexual orientation, nationality, marital status, political leaning and favorite ice cream flavor.

I love learning, I love church and I think having one foot in each world is the best way to learn.

Let’s all just love a little more and judge a little less. To me, that is the solution to every problem under the sun.

— sbkissel@indiana.edu
Follow columnist Sarah Kissel on Twitter @QueSarahSarah_.