If I Believe You
On god and other things
Growing up, my parents taught me about god. They always said he was kind and caring. That Jesus was a nice dude who believed we should always help one another. My grandma got me these child friendly books on the parables of Jesus. They were digestible for my age while still containing the socialist messages of gods only begotten son. To me, he sounded pretty cool.
I changed schools in middle school and that’s when things got murky religiously. I went from a secular environment to a catholic institution. I vividly remember a debate in sixth grade about abortion and if it was ‘right’. I was plied with one sided information about murdering babies and future Einsteins without ever being told the well rounded truth. We would go to church on the holy days and recite lines back to the priest that confused me. I had only been to church with my grandma on the anniversaries of my grandpa's death and twice at a baptist church, one of which was a funeral. Religion has always been a foreign concept for me, despite swimming in it.
The camp I went to growing up was run by my older sister's old school teacher. It had started as just a couple of kids being watched by her in the summer when their parents couldn’t get childcare. It moved from her house to the basement of a baptist church. At least once a summer we would do religious crafts. We would sing This Little Light of Mine regularly but I never thought it was about god. We’d end the summer with a show and the opening number was always a religious praise dance and the closing was a dance routine to Looking for You by Kirk Franklin. Still to this day when that song comes on I awake like a religious sleeper agent ready to spread the good word.
If you don’t know, catholic school moves faster than most schools while also having a section of the day focused on religion. So alongside math, history, English, science, etc, we would spend time talking about god. In seventh grade we watched pretty much the entirety of that show that was a recreation of the bible. The priests at our parish would spend time with us and help us along our ‘spiritual journeys’. We’d go into church and learn about the stations of the cross, we’d do confession, and at the beginning of the year, the cool priest would walk around the school lot with a wagon filled with toys and a karaoke machine blasting Best Day Ever from SpongeBob.
I got baptized at age eleven because it was important to my grandma. I then, at twelve, surrounded by a bunch of second graders, received my first communion. It is very weird being able to bend over the baptism bowl. My sister even brought her flat iron with her because she had just given me a blow out and refused to let the holy water spoil it.
I don’t think I really ever believed the whole thing. I was facing death as a child so my idea of god was very skewed. I didn’t understand how a loving god could hurt me. Jesus always felt like collateral damage. I related to him in a lot of ways, but really in just the complicated relationship with his dad. One time the older priest talked to my class for some reason. I can vividly remember the classroom and where he was when he said this. I remember him cursing - which I thought was illegal for priests to do - and he said, out loud “the bible isn’t real, it's a book of stories to live your life by.” Hearing a spokesperson for god basically say the bible is a mother goose tale will do irrevocable damage to you, regardless of religious status.
When I got to high school, when it came to religion - for lack of a better word - I was a menace. I had questions, many of which no one could answer. My freshman year teacher shared the little he was allowed to about other religions. He played Papaoutai by Stromae and related it in terms of religiosity. He, very slyly, was giving us a larger world view. We still had to attend mass, this time not in a church but in a gym with a short, plump, priest who had the vibe of Santa. My junior year, we had a teacher for a few weeks that ended up quitting. Naturally, they sent a substitute. It happened to be a very religious, elderly white woman. Truly picture Glenn Close in that Knives Out movie if she also was the grandmother from little red riding hood. I think she could smell that I didn’t buy it. In a very sweet voice, she’d say that being gay is a sin and abortion is murder. She would call me passionate (derogatory) when I asked questions about the scripture she had us read. People found it amusing. We once had to do a project about the sanctity of marriage, its pro’s and con’s. I put together a poster pointing out the parts of the bible where men are allowed to keep women as slaves, women were forced into marriages, and not allowed to have interfaith relations. I got an A cause she couldn’t prove me wrong.
I had a teacher once tell me I was going to hell because I forgot to bring in five dollars for a food drive. The deadline was the next day. My school fired a teacher for being gay while ignoring various complaints of sexual harassment from students. There is no love like catholic hate.
I truly got fed up with it. One warm foggy September night, I lit candles along my room. I had the window open and was in a long dress. I performed a seance because I was convinced I was going to lose my virginity to a ghost. I remember researching Lucifer and day dreaming about fucking him while in the middle of English. I once broke a pair of rosaries when I was sleeping with my then girlfriend. I wrote songs about it, poems about it. And then somewhere, I just gave up. My senior year I can recall my entire class trying to get a clear answer from our religion teacher about why being gay is bad. Why is assault prevalent in the catholic community? Why can't people have sex until marriage?
Religious fun fact: Did you know that in Catholicism, even if you are married, if you are physically incapable of having a child, sex is a sin. Sex is only seen as valid when procreation is in mind.
I believe in Jesus as a historical figure. I mean think about it, he’s a socialist that was persecuted. That’s a cool fucking guy. I don’t know about all the miracles and stuff but water to wine is a cool party trick. I do, however, believe a list of rules made up that are rigidly followed in a way that isn’t practical is not worth it. Tradition for tradition's sake is not a reason to shackle your life to something. There’s an entire world of expansive religion if you feel so called. Seikism is super interesting for example.
Catholicism in particular has always struck me as odd. If you need a list of rules to be a good person, maybe you’re just not a good person. If you build your life around something so fiercely that the absence of it will have it fall, maybe that’s not a pillar. I understand that for some, religion assigns them meaning, but how sad is that. A tree doesn’t subscribe to a religion, does it no longer have meaning? Why can’t you live in devotion to yourself? Live in devotion of care for others? Why must you give a man credit for your work? Are you not capable of living the life that is yours? Why must someone dictate your choices for you? I have no answers, only questions.
When I was fifteen, The 1975 released an album, and with it, was the song If I Believe You. It’s about the singer's relationship to religion and desire to feel it the way others do. I always come back to it.
I've got a God-shaped hole
That's infected
And I'm petrified of being alone, now
It's pathetic, I know
And I toss and I turn in my bed
It's just like I lost my head (Lost my head)
And if I believe you
Will that make it stop?
If I told you I need you
Is that what you want?
And I'm broken and bleeding
And begging for help
And I'm asking you, Jesus, show yourself
I thought I'd met you once or twice
But that was just because the dabs were nice and opening up my mind
Showing me consciousness is primary in the universe
And I had a revelation
I'll be your child, if you insist
I mean, if it was you that made my body
You probably shouldn't have made me atheist
But, oh, I'm a lesbian kiss, I'm an evangelist
And if you don't want to go to hell, then, Miss
You better start selling this
And if I believe you
Will that make it stop?
If I told you I need you
Is that what you want?
And I'm broken and bleeding
And begging for help
And I'm asking you, Jesus, show yourself
If I'm lost then how can I find myself?
Side note: I forgot to address how absolutely cunt catholic imagery is.