My own parents principle concern was behavior control/modification, and towards that end they hit me until I consistently sat quietly in a corner and said and did nothing unusual. They broke me. I think most Christian families do this, but most, I hope, instinctively balance punishment with emotional nourishing. Carrot and the stick. They did this, because I was annoying: all little children are, if their neediness and constant confusions are not met with love and empathy and affection. They justified it as saving me from Hell. Good little boys do not go to hell, especially not if they are baptized.
All I got was the stick, because the goal was avoiding something, not building something. I say this not to complain, so much as to continue to explore these things in public. Everything I do takes effort, because every move I make has to be initiated in the face of a global and overpowering fear, one bred into me very early.
A great deal of what is done in the name of Christ he would repudiate entirely. I am quite sure of this.
And ponder the awfulness of a conception of the universe in which an infinite God has to have his son slaughtered like a goat–bled–so that He can forgive the people he created. As I have said before, if we are to take the metaphor literally, perhaps Christ should have had his throat slit at an altar on Temple Mount. I am fully with the proselytizing atheists in finding this repugnant, even if I derive no pleasure from attacking the beliefs of others. For my part, most of my work is generative. Far easier to build on an existing foundation–to improve what exists–than to tear down and actually rebuild. In practice, of course, those who tear down build nearly nothing, and almost always make the world worse.
As I have said often, this is the difference between true Liberalism and the Leftisms.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. Everywhere I look I see stupidity. I see it in me, too, of course but I at least can see most of the areas, I think, covered in fog. I have some sense of what I do not know, and am always willing to question what I think I know. Every day. All the time. Perceptual motion. This is absolutely necessary, and why it is one of my three core values.
I can’t resist sharing some history on Easter. I am in an odd, somewhat savage mood. It will pass, but I am going to let it roll for now.
Easter comes from a pagan festival, a celebration of the goddess Eastre. She was the goddess of spring, and dawn, in my understanding. When early Christian missionaries were traveling northern Europe, they realized that if they celebrated Christ’s death and resurrection at the same time, early Christians would not stand out as much for persecution. Easter is, roughly, to Eastre, what Christmas was to the Saturnalia. It is, in a sense, a coopted ritual based upon a coopted myth.