Earlier this year, I shared on my blog that there were three stories that relate to why I left a secure academic job and made the big move to the unknown in an island nation in the South Pacific. As a friend recently observed, the move definitely solved some problems, but created other challenges as I negotiated employment and readjusted some life plans in a new environment. It’s time to begin sharing part of the second story.
On Religion and Public Performances
Just the other day, I casually chatted with someone about this past week. I was so touched when this person unexpectedly shared their (avoiding gender-specific pronoun for privacy) own encounters with anxiety. Their empathy was so unexpected and vulnerable.
Our conversation reminded me of my reflections over the past three years as I begin to document my experiences in writing. I’ve been fairly open about the fact that the big reason I left a religious undergraduate college in the U.S. is because I couldn’t stomach the public displays of religiosity any longer. Over time it felt very fake and forced to me. I’m a rather scrappy fighter, from a plain spoken working-class background, and that background’s legacy is my little patience for posturing of any sort.
I recently tried to discuss a conflict with someone who is a public figure in a church (not in New Zealand, just for clarification), whether they like it or not. That person’s response was to not show empathy and to shut down communication. I was very disappointed. That situation reminded me once again why I moved. Who needs enemies from the outside when you can find them in a church?
On Calling it Quits
I first made my decision to leave Holland, Michigan in early 2011 (I think it was), when the town’s council wouldn’t pass a local ordinance that would make it illegal for landlords and employers to discriminate against LGBT people. The place was already on thin ice with me after my employer banned a prominent activist from campus (private institutions can get away with a lot in the U.S.) and tried to shut down various student demonstrations.
The town’s mayor had the power to cast the deciding vote. After listening for hours to people share their heart-wrenching stories, some in tears about their struggles, it finally came down to the mayor’s vote. Instead of displaying courage to stand for justice, this small-town mayor with aspirations of getting a local Senate seat read from a pre-written letter about why he couldn’t vote yes.
I left that meeting in shock and went home to hang new curtains in my living room. As I hung the heavy red fabric, I told my husband that I just couldn’t do it anymore. I thought I could help make change there, and I certainly impacted students by sharing my life story, but I was done fighting in a place that wasn’t life-giving to me.
It was very hard to hear openly ignorant comments when I came back to the U.S. late last year for a brief visit. Getting on the Air New Zealand flight back to Wellington was a breath of fresh air as I downed a glass of NZ wine and looked down at the Tasman. I was nearly delirious with jet lag as we landed in summer heat near midnight after two days of flights, but thank God I was here. Ellen DeGeneres once said in an interview about her decision to leave her hometown and move to a bigger city where she could find a community: “You have to go to where your people are.” How true that is.
When No One is Looking
Here’s the thing. Being religious isn’t about who can give the most eloquent, long prayer at a faculty meeting. It isn’t about sitting in the front of the church every Sunday to show you diligently attend. It isn’t about who serves on the most work and church communities. It isn’t about saying you have the only way to live truth. Nor does being religious mean espousing values of concern and care while bullying others in private.
I would never argue that someone’s involvement with public church activities or giving eloquent public prayers should be discouraged. Of course those could be sincere outgrowths of a devout belief. However, it is sad when those things become performances that mask true motivations and character.
Instead of empty public performances, being religious is about showing empathy and realness, living those values in quiet and unspoken ways. It’s about truly listening to others and asking questions about experiences that may be different from your own. Being religious is about demonstrating those values when you know no one is looking.
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