No more communion

From what I could tell, it appeared that we wouldn’t be going to church today but at the last minute we got ready and went. Kris was at work so she didn’t come with us. While we were driving to N____, I announced that I would no longer be taking communion. I suppose, it is a way of testing the waters of the bigger announcement that I will someday make.

Participating in the Eucharist makes me feel like a hypocrite. Every time that I go up there, I have to ask myself if I really believe in what the church (that is the earthly church) teaches. For the past few years, the answer has been no. I no longer believe in the doctrine. I used to think that this was dangerous. I was toying with damnation. Let me back up a few steps.

I know that I have been touched by God. I believe in him. On the day my mother died, I knew that he had saved my life. I haven’t told many people this. While we traveling I laid down in the back seat. My head was behind my mother on the passenger side. I fell asleep but I awoke because I was having difficulty breathing. The reason was because I had the pillow wrapped around my head and my arms were clasping it shut. This was completely unusual for me especially in the sweltering tropics that we were in. Even then, I thought that it was odd. So I released myself and tried to go back to sleep. The next thing I remember was a violent jolt that knocked the wind out of me. When I opened my eyes, it was dark. I had enveloped my head in the pillow again. It saved my life. I knew soon after, that it wasn’t me.

When I look back on that, I don’t thank an angel. I don’t thank Jesus. I thank God. Throughout my life, I had always prayed to God and never bothered to make a distinction between Jesus and God. And although I still believe in Jesus and the idea of the Trinity, I still tend to focus on the unity of God rather than the separateness. A few years after going through confirmation, I began to think of Lutheranism in relationship to Christianity at large and the other two Abrahamic religions. It distressed me to find that only “true” Christians were going to have salvation. Only a small proportion of the world could fit that definition. How could God permit that?

Last year, I met Binta. She and I ended up having a stimulating conversation about religion. She is a Muslim from Senegal. The fact that she did not meet any of the stereotypes of Muslim women intrigued me. She dressed very fashionably. Her hair was visible. She wore make-up. More importantly, she was a strong, smart, dominant and confident. I instantly liked her and wanted to know more. I learned that my beliefs, in some way, mirrored that of Muslims. First, I placed more emphasis on the one God. Second, I believed that all followers of God (Jews, Christians, and Muslims) could achieve salvation. That didn’t mean that I was going to convert, but it did give me some thought that what if we all have it wrong. In the grand scheme of things, our differences are so trivial that it couldn’t possibly matter to God. We all worship him, just in different ways. It is hard to believe that he would respond to only one group of people.

The core of what makes me a Christian is still there but I can not stand before the Lutheran church and proclaim that I believe exactly what they would have me believe. To participate in the communion, I need to confess to believing in Lutheran doctrine and I don’t.

As to the issue of homosexuality, I am still wrestling with that one. The three religions clearly identify it as a sin. It’s hard to argue against it. Particularly worrisome are the people who have natural inclinations to theft, lying, and such. My natural inclinations are to members of the same sex. Are they the same? Does God expect me to fight my desires in the same way a thief has to fight his? If that is so, then I don’t know why I should continue to live. I have nothing to live for if I can not be with someone who will make me happy. I can never know touch and sensation. I can never experience love. It is a cruel God that would expect me to live life alone.

My Dad called me a heathen. It hurt.