A Gen-Xer on Religion

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I grew up in an age of collective disillusionment: Institutions were losing trust, the optimism of social rights activism seemed to stagnate, and even the hippies seemed to give up and go be productive members of society. In the 90's I danced at school and camp dances to "Loser" by Beck, and "Creep" by Radiohead, while REM's "It's the End of the World As We Know It" helped us to feel fine while we bounced around listening to all the world's problems. Alas, we were lost and wondering. 

Many parents of kids in my generation found a religious freedom they called (and continue to call) "spiritual, but not religious." The Vietnam War had exposed us collectively to Buddhism, and while some Christian monks (Thomas Merton) teamed up with Buddhist monks (Thich Nhat Hahn) in deep conversation to find commonality and to learn from one another, many others became aware of whole continents of people who are not Christian, considered conventional concepts of salvation, and thought, "How could this be? I'm outta here." Overwhelmed with new realities, many said to their children, "You make up your own mind about religion." Leaving a gap in religious tradition and furthering the radical individualism that leaves many with a sense of isolation. 

Meanwhile, as a Gen-X teenager, I was wearing ripped corduroys over my skate-worn "Chuck Taylor" shoes to church, then putting on an alb to lead the procession, cross held high, up to the altar. I accidentally learned the Nicene Creed and the prayers of our church. I heard my priests like Father John, and Mother Shanna preach about Jesus' love for the whole world as they guided us through the seasons of the year. They welcomed in the creeps and losers I hung out with along with the athletes and nerds. We learned other songs like, "Thy Word is a Lamp Unto My Feet" and "God's Own Fool" reminding us that while the world was rapidly changing, God's loving presence was unchanging. We learned about the order of Good Friday and Easter, and how it could seem like the end of the world (death) and yet we could indeed feel fine (resurrection). Sometimes I was bored and didn't want to go to church. What I didn't realize on those days was that the practices of the church were boring their way into my soul--equipping me with spiritual maps to reference when (not if) I became lost in the wilderness of life. 


It is part of my vocational desire to share the gift of the church community, this beautiful and imperfect vessel of God's love. It saddens me that not everyone has a community of faith when life deals its blows. The church continues to transform me, to humble and guide me as the Holy Spirit works through the people set in my life through this community; we follow scripture, tradition, and reason in our faithful response to life. I'm grateful that Jesus showed us this Way that endures disillusionment of temporal reality, and that this precious gift has been passed down to us.

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