When Church Hurts

The worship service was unpleasant for me today, Ms J. It was a surprise, really. The day started out happy enough. I opened the church and prepared things for the service and played a CD of Celtic fiddle tunes over the new sound system. I was step-dancing down the aisle and lighting candles and having a great time. Soon the congregation arrived and the organist began to play. And the atmosphere became more reverend.

It's all good so far, Ms J. We had children's time and heard about God giving Moses the ten commandments. I love children's time. I always join the kids at the altar and listen closely as the preacher tells us a story. After we'd heard the story and had a little prayer, the little ones went downstairs to Sunday school and I rejoined the congregation in the pews to listen to the scripture reading.

Here's where things went bad for me.

Colleen stood at the lectern and read from Exodus 20: 1-17 It was the story of God speaking to Moses and telling him of God's rules. Sacred words, Ms J. Sacred rules for all Christians. The Ten Commandments. The first one was fine.

"you shall have no other gods before me."

I sat back in the empty pew and stretched my arms out on both sides. I took a long, deep breath and exhaled comfortably. It was the ten commandments. Yup. I knew this passage, Ms J. Didn't everyone? I relaxed and waited for the second one.

"You shall not make for yourself an idol ..."

Colleen was wearing mascara this morning. And eyeliner. She looked pretty there behind the microphone. I listened to her soft voice as she continued.

"You shall not bow down to them or worship them; for I, the Lord your God, am a jealous God, punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and fourth generation of those who reject me, ..."

I wrinkled my nose in bewilderment. Had I heard correctly? Did she really say that? Is that in the Bible? I shook my head to clear my senses and repeated in my mind what I'd just heard.

... punishing children for the iniquity of parents, to the third and fourth generation of those who reject me, ...

Punishing children? For the sins of their parents? Punishing children?!!

Colleen's voice faded and disappeared. There was nothing anymore but my own tortured thoughts. Was Dan being punished because I was so immoral? What about Meagan? Would she be made to suffer as well? I couldn't contain my remorse. No, Lord! Not my Scout! Not her.

I was a real miscreant until about six years ago. I took drugs. I visited hookers. I cheated on my wives. I stole. I lied. I treated both Kelly and Donna like dirt. I drove, wasted, to collect my children, Ms J. Not just once, but many times. Many, many times. I went to work in that condition and jeopardised the lives of thousands of innocent commuters. I was an angry, violent man. My children were all I cared about. My kids, and the next line of speed. Or coke. Or whatever.

... punishing children for the iniquity of parents.

But isn't God a loving God? Isn't He merciful? Isn't He just? That's what we've been taught. How could He be so cruel? What about my dad, Ms Journal? I wondered what evil he'd done to cause Jill's cancer. And now Helen's. What better way to punish someone than to bring suffering to their children?

Tears were dripping on my sweater. I was literally sobbing, Ms J. I wanted to get up and flee from that place, but I couldn't let anyone see me like that. I was seated near the front. I'd have to face everyone as I ran out the back. I had no choice but to stay there, trapped with my pain.

I wasn't aware of any sound in the church whatsoever. I couldn't hear Colleen. I didn't hear Rev. Linda when she spoke. I just sat and stared at that empty wooden cross on the wall behind the choir. The same desperate thought kept repeating itself.

I'm sorry, God. I'm so sorry for what I did. Please don't punish my family. Punish me if you must. But leave my kids alone. Leave my sister alone. I'm sorry, Lord. I am so fucking sorry.

I don't remember much of the service beyond that point. After the benediction, I sat with my head bowed until most of the people were gone. My nose was dripping. I wished I had a Kleenex.

Finally, I stood and sniffed and swallowed, wiped my eyes with the heels of my hands, and marched bravely down the aisle to the narthex. A few people were gathered there, sipping coffee and chatting with Linda. I didn't acknowledge them at all as I passed. I could feel myself getting angry. How dare they say that? How dare they let Colleen, or anyone, read from the Bible like that with no warning? No explanation. What kind of God punishes innocent children because He's pissed off with their parents??!!

Carla is our student minister. The door to her office was open so I entered and found her there talking with someone. I didn't wait for a break in their conversation. I didn't even say excuse me. I just walked up to her and asked her point blank for an explanation. I tried to be strong and angry, Ms J. But I was neither. I was weak and hurting.

Carla was so gentle. So compassionate. She will be an excellent minister one day. She explained that the story has to be heard in the context of the time in which it was written. People then were simple. There was no science to help them understand things. They needed to have a reason for their misfortune and suffering. Much of the Bible is not to be interpreted literally, she said. It makes more sense to us today, to see the metaphorical meanings in some of the stories.

"Linda explained that in her sermon," she said. "I guess you were too upset to hear it."

She put her hand on my shoulder and looked into my eyes. She has the warmest brown eyes I think I've ever seen, Ms J.

"I'm glad you came and asked for an explanation, Dale. I'm so sorry that happened. Are you alright now?"

I told her I was feeling better. I came home and lit a candle and sat quietly for half an hour. Maybe I needed to feel that way this morning. Maybe it helped me to better understand the suffering of others. Helen told me on Friday that Dad blames himself for her illness. He had prostate cancer years ago and believes he's passed that faulty DNA to his daughters. She told him that was preposterous.

Rev. Linda phoned around dinner time. We had a nice chat. She'd heard I was upset and had called to check on me. She is so sweet, Ms J. We all love her so.

"The Bible contains some really horrible things, Dale. Terrifying concepts. Brutal violence. It can be very disturbing," she said. "Especially the old testament."

"But it's always a good idea to remember the historical context of the passage. I think that's the key to understanding it, and making it pertinent to our Lives today."

"God loves you. He forgives you for whatever you've done. And He is not punishing Daniel or Meagan."

"Will I have any more experiences like this in the future do you think, Linda?" I asked.

"Probably," she said. "But that just means your heart is open to receive the spirit. It may be a good thing in the end."

"It hurt like Hell, Linda," I said.

"I know," she said softly. "But sometimes we need to hurt a little to get where we need to be."

I wonder where I need to be, Ms J? I wonder where I'm going?

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