That Was Me
Jun. 26th, 2009 12:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wlotusI have been watching the various reactions to Michael Jackson's death, responses which range from callous disdain for him and those of us who are deeply moved by his death, to ambivalence, to grief for him and his closest loved ones. As disturbing as the disdain is to me, the most disturbing response I have seen is, arguably, a compassionate one. It is the heartfelt response of an evangelical Christian:
I hope Michael Jackson knew Jesus Christ as his savior.
That response disturbs me the most, because that was me, back when I identified as an evangelical Christian. A family has lost its son, brother, and father. Friends have lost someone dear to their heart. A multi-generational, world-wide, interracial fan base has lost someone who inspired them to look at the man in the mirror and eschew looking at one another as black or white. Yet in the face of all of that human suffering, this person's most compassionate response is not an expression of solidarity with the mourners. Instead, it is to push their own, limited understanding of spirituality as the one, true way to eternal peace. As a former evangelical, I know the underlying message is, "If he did not accept Jesus Christ as savior, he is in torment with no reprieve, for ever, no matter how good a life we might think he lived." That isn't exactly what a family and fan base deep in mourning needs to hear. But I wouldn't have seen that fact, would not have seen (or cared) how non-compassionate my statement may have appeared to others. All that would have mattered was a public statement of my faith. Looking at my past, religious self from the other side of the fence, I am truly ashamed at how off-putting my behavior in those days must have been to those who may have needed comfort.
In spite of this, I say the response is compassionate in its own way, because in the evangelical worldview, one's most important job is to try to save people from eternal torment. The intent behind the message (at least of those who have true hearts for their god, as I believe that particular Christian does) is not to turn up one's nose at Michael Jackson or those who adored him from near and far. The intent is to get people to see (as far as evangelicals are concerned) that as serious as the problem of losing a loved one is, losing one's soul for all eternity is a far greater problem. Their response is far more compassionate than the disdain of those who ridicule everyday people's grief at his passing, a self-righteous, "Get over it, already, because the world issues and people I have identified as 'important' are far more valid a focus than what moves you."
But still, there is a hint of self-righteousness in it. The idea that one knows for sure their idea of god is most correct and all who do not believe will be lost smacks of arrogance. I'm looking at the person in the mirror--rather, who that person was six or seven years ago--and I do not like what I see. I would have felt grief at losing one of my favorite artists of all time, at losing someone in whom I always believed and for whom I felt pity and even anger whenever I thought of the mockery some people made of his life. But I would have wrapped that grief up in an evangelical Christian bubble, distanced myself from the raw reality of losing someone, and focused only on the question of whether he was "worthy" to go to "heaven" by the time he died. Never mind that no one has been able to prove the existence of a heaven, and for all we know for sure, we simply cease to exist when we take our last breath; I would have ignored that fact and stuck to the party line...all while silently congratulating myself for being part of the "In" crowd that believes in Jesus as Savior.
As I get more and more distance from my evangelical Christian days, I am able to look at such beliefs without immediately feeling rage at everything good I lost and everyone good I hurt while trying to live that life. (The anger is still there, don't get me wrong, but it isn't so potent that I cannot look at the belief system with some reason, now.) I can respect the fact that believing in Jesus as one's savior gives a lot of people hope and helps them approach life and death with far more dignity than they would be able to muster, if they thought they simply stopped existing after death. Susan Sontag was an athiest, and her son once said in an interview that she did not die well, in large part because she was horrified at the thought of ceasing to exist. Where I used to believe it is ridiculous to staunchly believe Jesus' death was redemptive when no one can prove it was, I now say if that belief helps some folks approach death peacefully rather than in horror, it is a good thing for them to believe, no matter what the ultimate truth may be. But what is good for them to believe is not necessarily the most compassionate bill of goods to sell to others.
I hope Michael Jackson knew Jesus Christ as his savior.
That response disturbs me the most, because that was me, back when I identified as an evangelical Christian. A family has lost its son, brother, and father. Friends have lost someone dear to their heart. A multi-generational, world-wide, interracial fan base has lost someone who inspired them to look at the man in the mirror and eschew looking at one another as black or white. Yet in the face of all of that human suffering, this person's most compassionate response is not an expression of solidarity with the mourners. Instead, it is to push their own, limited understanding of spirituality as the one, true way to eternal peace. As a former evangelical, I know the underlying message is, "If he did not accept Jesus Christ as savior, he is in torment with no reprieve, for ever, no matter how good a life we might think he lived." That isn't exactly what a family and fan base deep in mourning needs to hear. But I wouldn't have seen that fact, would not have seen (or cared) how non-compassionate my statement may have appeared to others. All that would have mattered was a public statement of my faith. Looking at my past, religious self from the other side of the fence, I am truly ashamed at how off-putting my behavior in those days must have been to those who may have needed comfort.
In spite of this, I say the response is compassionate in its own way, because in the evangelical worldview, one's most important job is to try to save people from eternal torment. The intent behind the message (at least of those who have true hearts for their god, as I believe that particular Christian does) is not to turn up one's nose at Michael Jackson or those who adored him from near and far. The intent is to get people to see (as far as evangelicals are concerned) that as serious as the problem of losing a loved one is, losing one's soul for all eternity is a far greater problem. Their response is far more compassionate than the disdain of those who ridicule everyday people's grief at his passing, a self-righteous, "Get over it, already, because the world issues and people I have identified as 'important' are far more valid a focus than what moves you."
But still, there is a hint of self-righteousness in it. The idea that one knows for sure their idea of god is most correct and all who do not believe will be lost smacks of arrogance. I'm looking at the person in the mirror--rather, who that person was six or seven years ago--and I do not like what I see. I would have felt grief at losing one of my favorite artists of all time, at losing someone in whom I always believed and for whom I felt pity and even anger whenever I thought of the mockery some people made of his life. But I would have wrapped that grief up in an evangelical Christian bubble, distanced myself from the raw reality of losing someone, and focused only on the question of whether he was "worthy" to go to "heaven" by the time he died. Never mind that no one has been able to prove the existence of a heaven, and for all we know for sure, we simply cease to exist when we take our last breath; I would have ignored that fact and stuck to the party line...all while silently congratulating myself for being part of the "In" crowd that believes in Jesus as Savior.
As I get more and more distance from my evangelical Christian days, I am able to look at such beliefs without immediately feeling rage at everything good I lost and everyone good I hurt while trying to live that life. (The anger is still there, don't get me wrong, but it isn't so potent that I cannot look at the belief system with some reason, now.) I can respect the fact that believing in Jesus as one's savior gives a lot of people hope and helps them approach life and death with far more dignity than they would be able to muster, if they thought they simply stopped existing after death. Susan Sontag was an athiest, and her son once said in an interview that she did not die well, in large part because she was horrified at the thought of ceasing to exist. Where I used to believe it is ridiculous to staunchly believe Jesus' death was redemptive when no one can prove it was, I now say if that belief helps some folks approach death peacefully rather than in horror, it is a good thing for them to believe, no matter what the ultimate truth may be. But what is good for them to believe is not necessarily the most compassionate bill of goods to sell to others.
