Ethnic Christianity
Middle Class Rage
By Monica Lesmerises
I'm a mutt. One-eighth German, French, shicksa, Slovakian, blonde,
Yankee, whitey, and townie. Which makes me hard-pressed to
identify with an ethnicity. I once told someone I was half-Catholic. They
laughed: "That's like being half-vegetarian." If someone can be half-Jewish,
why can't I be half-Catholic?
People often tell me Judaism is a race, an ethnicity, or a people, while
Christianity is just a religion. I'm not taking issue with the first part. But
as a semi-practicing Methodist who was baptized Catholic, I'd like to out
myself right now as an ethnic Christian.
I've heard many Jewish students say that they identify with Jewish culture,
but are less tied to the dogma. In fact, as far as I gather, Jews are much less
likely to attend a weekly service than Protestants, and certainly less likely
than Catholics. However, these same students remain adamant about marrying
within the religion, and staunch about wanting to raise their children
Jewish.
I am the same way. Since entering college, I rarely attend church other than
on holidays, and then mostly in my home town. I have no interest in
proselytizing or in choosing my social group based on religion. But I do find a
certain bond with other Christians with similar values gained from church, and
similar goals for our future in the religion.
I love my church most for being an unconditional community. Perhaps I feel
that way more strongly because I don't have a specific ethnic community. But
knowing that there will always be a group of people, beyond my family and close
friends,with whom I will feel a familial bond is one of the most comforting
feelings I know.
Church is a comforting routine of seeing the same people, singing the same
songs and reciting the same prayers I've known since childhood. I love seeing
the crayon drawings of what the second graders are giving up for Lent. (My
favorite is "root beer on Thursdays.") The Alpha-Bit Bible verses I glued and
shellacked onto a popsicle-stick background at summer Bible school still
decorate my house--it's just about the best medium for a Bible verse I can
think of. And though I cowered at the sight of my trigonometry teacher in high
school, we'd sit in the same pew and exchange the "sign of peace" on Sundays.
On a larger scale, I know that if people I love are sick or needing help,
there is a congregation of hundreds of people who will all pray for me. I do
not find comfort in this phenomenon because I think God will answer prayers,
solve problems, or listen more because there are 500 people praying rather than
two. But it is an awesome feeling to knowthat I have, outside of my friends and
family, a community of 500 people who will unconditionally care.
For me, Christianity is more about people than about Jesus. And I don't
consider it blasphemy to say so--I think it is a widespread sentiment among us
closet Christians.
I can be a Christian and still think that crusading against premarital sex
(not unprotected or casual sex, mind you) is about the most worthless cause out
there. Maybe a lot of Christians disagree. But other religions have a spectrum
of believers too, and not keeping kosher, or wearing slacks, doesn't make
others less part of their religious groups.
Also, the fact that Christianity happens to be a more common and
"user-friendly" religion (as a Jewish friend of mine calls it) doesn't make it
less precious. One of the things I most admire about my religion is that it
welcomes all with open arms. Most of us Christians are used to being in the
massive majority. But at Yale, we probably are not even a plurality. I think
it's a wonderful thing, and I have learned a lot about other religions since
coming here.
As a part of this rich diversity, I've also finally learned that there is
something about me--a Christian "mutt"--that is distinct and valuable.
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