Ruminations

  When I was about six or seven years old, I lived in an apartment complex in the suburbs of Washington, DC.  It was a middle-class area and only a couple of miles away from the Catholic school I was attending.  I had, of course, been raised Catholic, although our Sunday attendance wasn't great.  It didn't feel like that mattered much since every Thursday (later Wednesdays), we went to Mass as part of the school day in the morning.  So I was still in church at least once a week anyway.  I also had a "Religion" class period each day, which was, of course, Catholic doctrine.  

  I had a couple of friends in the apartment complex I lived in.  They were Protestants, I don't recall what denomination.  They were brothers, one slightly older than I was, the other slightly younger.  They attended a LOT of church-related activities.  As I recall, the older brother was in Awana.  (I went with him to a meeting once.  I remember nothing about it except that I didn't want to go back.)  It was through them that I was also invited to a little Bible study group that met informally in various outside locations in the apartment complex.  We'd meet under a tree, next to a building, etc.

  On one occasion, I remember that the adult leader asked us kids if we had Jesus in our hearts.  I had no idea what that meant.  That wasn't a phrase I heard at school or at church, so even though I knew who Jesus was and all that, I didn't understand what was meant by "having Him in my heart."  So all of the kids said yes, except me.  Not knowing if I did or not, I said no.    

  So at this, I was taken apart from the other kids by the assistant leader and asked if I wanted to have Jesus in my heart.  I still didn't really know what that meant, but it sounded good, so I said yes.  So, she led me in a little prayer, inviting Jesus into my heart.  We went back to the group, and that was that.  According to the Protestant definition of "getting saved,"  I guess I had just gotten saved.  

  My two friends were delighted, and that made me happy, but I still didn't really understand what, if anything, had changed.  I still went to Catholic school, still went to church.  

  Keep in mind that this was at a point in my life where I had no awareness of denominations in any meaningful way.  I could see that my friends were having a somewhat different church experience than I was.  They looked confused when I would talk about Catholic things, like Communion or Confession, but it wasn't a big deal.  These groups and organizations they belonged to didn't seem to exist in my church, but I just figured those were simple differences in other congregations.  To me, everybody who was a Christian was a Catholic because that's all I really understood.  I thought those terms were interchangeable.  To the credit of those Protestants I was interacting with, as far as I recall, there was no Catholic bashing from them.

  That isn't to say I never had any Protestants bashing me for being a Catholic.  It did happen, but later.  Like the guy I mentioned in a previous post, who approached me when I was playing outside when I was around eight or nine years old, who tried to tell me Catholics were all wrong and worshipped Mary.  That was my awakening to the idea that no, not all Christians are Catholic, and no, they don't always get along either.

  I've spent a lot of time (read: too much time) ruminating about these kinds of things.  People who claim to be Christians who behave in a decidedly un-Christianlike manner are everywhere.  I've struggled to understand why that is.  What is it about the way Christianity is taught in different places that results in some people being very fine, excellent examples of Christian love, while others are quite aggressively the opposite?  I really think the answer is simple: Tribalism.

  I have seen some of the most vicious and inhuman arguments over the stupidest things, like Star Trek vs. Star Wars.  I've heard of people being beaten to death over the sports team they support.  I've seen people whose default setting can only be described as "aggressive, condescending jerk" when they argue with anyone about anything, no matter how small and inconsequential.  Human beings are psychologically hard-wired to organize themselves into groups.  That's how we've always been.  At some times in history, it's been a survival strategy.  It's an instinct.  You stick to your group for validation and support, and your group is, of course, the best group.  That's why you are a part of it. 

 No, people don't think about this consciously, but it's surprising how hard people will try to come up with "objective" arguments in favor of their group, even if they didn't choose to be a part of it.  Nobody chooses where they're born, yet most of the groups we belong to have everything to do with geography.  Patriotism, nationalism, support for a particular team, religion... for most people, their group membership in these things is decided entirely by the place on Earth where they were born.  If you were born in Tehran, you're probably a Muslim, owe your allegiance to Iran, and root for Iran when you watch the World Cup.  On the other hand, if you were born in Colorado, you're probably a Christian, root for the Broncos, Nuggets, Avalanche or Rockies (depending on your favorite sport), and have almost certainly pledged allegiance to the flag of the United States of America at some point in your life.  

  That isn't to say that nobody changes any of these things, of course.  People convert into and out of religions, they move to other countries, and in some cases, become citizens there.  They may root for a different sports team because of various reasons, but it's not common.  Generally speaking, though, we stick to what we were taught as kids.

  I don't know if it's my personality, my life experience, or some glitch in my mental programming but I tend to push against being tribal when I can.  Maybe I've seen too many overblown, irrational arguments between people over tribalism, and so it turns me off.  I hate seeing people pretend to be objective and intellectual when they're not.  I feel hypocritical when I catch myself doing it.  I don't mean to brag when I say this, I'm just offering my perspective on things.  I prefer Star Trek, but I love Star Wars too (well, the older stuff from those franchises, anyway).  I drive a Ford as my daily driver and a Chevy Truck for when I need to haul big and/or heavy stuff.  My project car is a Datsun.  I converted from Catholicism to the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints when I was 24.  I follow the Washington Capitals when I watch hockey, but that's more about happy memories of going to Caps games with my sons when they were little.  These days, I'm a fan of both Formula One and IndyCar.  I have a crippling Pepsi addiction, but I'll also drink Coke if that's what's available.  I am fanatically loyal to the ideals of the United States, although I'm very cynical about how things are going right now, and I think the government we have does a very poor job of upholding those ideals.  For the record, I have been outside the USA, and I know why it's different.  So maybe I'm being a bit tribal here, but I do honestly believe this country is the best place to be, even now.

  Most, if not all, of the times I've been attacked for my religion, it's because of the tribalism in the other person.  There are no exceptions.   A friendly discussion is one thing, even if it's a vigorous but respectful debate... but when people get nasty and resort to a confrontational or rude stance, that's an immediate red flag that this person isn't mad because of what I believe.  They're mad because I don't believe what they do, and that can feel like a threat.  Think about it.  Whenever you are talking to someone and you feel strongly about something like, say, your favorite football team, and you find out that you're talking with someone that is very loyal to your team's rival, doesn't a teeny, tiny part of you feel a little like this person is like an "enemy?"  Of course, most of us wouldn't actually react that way outwardly, but I think everybody has that tiny little blip in their lizard brain.  

  So the more emotionally involved we are with our group, the stronger that reaction is.  Few things reach into us emotionally and grab us by the feels as a perceived threat to our religion... or at least, our ability to comfortably be a part of it.  Nobody likes to feel doubts about their group, and different people respond to those things differently.  It's like insulting somebody's mother.  That can really be their berserk button.  That's because religion is a part of a person's identity.  People react very, very strongly when they feel like their identity is under attack.  It's part of that group instinct.

  To me, that accounts for 99% of the aggressive behavior people show to each other when it comes to anything that has to do with group identity.  If you see somebody with a silver truck with Dallas Cowboys flags on it with a big blue star on the tailgate and a license plate that says something like CWBYFAN, you can bet that person's identity is wrapped up in that team.  Trash-talk the Cowboys in front of that person at your peril.  

  The real bummer about all of this is that, if you think about it, the Gospel of Jesus Christ is about teaching us how to overcome those lizard-brain instincts and rise above.  The Gospel is about controlling our animal instincts to find enlightenment in a higher, more spiritual context.  The famous Seven Deadly Sins are an example.  Most of them are directly referring to animal tendencies to be aggressive, lustful, to eat too much, and to work as little as possible.  The Ten Commandments could almost be summed up in a single sentence as "Follow God and don't behave like a beast."  Think about it.  Jesus taught us to forgive as God forgives.  That's an enlightened position.  He teaches us to love as God loves.  That's enlightenment.  He teaches us to love even our enemies.  That is hard.  That is very, very difficult because when we feel we've been wronged by someone, or know of someone who means us harm, our animal instincts want to destroy the threat, to protect ourselves from them.  Not to forgive and certainly not to love.

  And that is why people attack each other over religion.  If your religion is the same or at least very similar to someone else's, they won't be likely to attack you.  If your religion is wildly different to the point of seeming absurd, they won't attack because they don't feel threatened.  If, on the other hand, your religion is just similar enough to be taken seriously but still different enough to contradict the other guy's... watch out.  They will come at you.  

  Not everybody, of course.  Most people have manners and common courtesy that curtail that urge.  There are some, though, who feel the need to aggressively go after that perceived threat.  Once you see that for what it is, it's pretty obvious.  And once you see that, you know why it will be impossible to have a meaningful discussion.  They aren't looking to share ideas and perspectives.  They aren't looking to listen to you and what you have to say.  They want you to go away.  They want to go back into their in-group and surround themselves with those who will validate them.  

  So, I have come up with a few rules of thumb for dealing with these situations, or things I can learn when I observe them happening with others.

• The person who behaves most aggressively is the one who feels the most threatened.
• The person who behaves most aggressively feels the most threatened because they are the more insecure about their own belief or position.
• The person who resorts to ad hominem or personal attacks has already lost the argument and is just trying to do some damage on their way down.
• The side that uses lies or half-truths is afraid of the truth and has already lost the argument.  Otherwise, they could win with the truth and have no need to make things up.

  Why isn't this obvious?

  Maybe I'll go into that more next time.  There is an answer, from what I've observed.