Conversion, condemnation and rejectionist religion

This week has been a tough one for me in the “faith” department for a couple of reasons.

First, there was the death of a young friend in his 40s due to cancer in the brain. He fought the fight for several years, with only his young wife by his side because his parents, who were from South Asia, had ostracized him for converting from Hindu to Christianity. I don’t even know if his ashes will make it back home or remain in some memorial park in the Philippines.

Two days later, a member of our men’s discipleship group informed me that our youngest and most recent member would no longer be joining us because the father had categorically warned my friend and the young guy’s employer not to influence or convert his son from Catholic to “Born Again” because they are “Katoliko Sarado.”

As today’s column title suggests, I feel the sting of “conversion, condemnation and rejectionist religion.” It would be easy to fight fire with fire or raise the “you hypocrite card” and get burned at a virtual cross. But as Charlie Brown once said, “Never talk about politics, religion and the Great Pumpkin!”

Instead, allow me to share a conversation I had with a sweet and entertaining 88-year-old lady who called me the other day to seek my assistance on a real estate related matter. We had such an animated conversation where she even shared her days as an executive assistant to a well-known technocrat and the activities of the Catholic Women’s league.

After three dropped calls, I decided it was time to wind up the conversation by praying for the lady for good health and favor in her concern. That’s when she asked: “What church do you attend, Catholic, Born Again or a Methodist?” Interesting how people automatically ask the question.

I replied I used to attend a Catholic church, Born Again is a state of being not a church, and I’m not a Methodist. Instead of being shocked, the lady was now so curious how I went from being a Catholic to becoming a Christian. And so, I told her the story of how I graduated from one level to another.

First, I told her about how “religious” I was. When I started working, I would give two sacks of rice every month to a Catholic formation house along Katipunan. Whenever I could, I would go to confession on Saturdays. On Sunday, I would attend mass and receive communion, have lunch with the family like every good Catholic is supposed to do.

But after lunch everything went to “hell.” I would generally be at the cockpit fighting roosters, betting money, while screaming profanities, hoping it would help my rooster win. After the chicken fights, I would pick up my girlfriend at the time, take her to dinner and proceed to a motel and commit more sins.

The following week, from Monday to Friday, I would either be busy trying to make a quick buck or get into a state of disagreement and disrespect for my father or curse at government and politicians. In fact, all the way to 1991, I had an ongoing feud with my father.

I would not point the finger of blame at the Catholic church, but it was apparent that my religion, religiosity or interpretation of faith was not representative of the church or its tenets and ideals. Although it was evident that I actively violated the Ten Commandments except two of them, I hypocritically carried on attending “church” in absolute ignorance.

After several years, life and an invitation led me to my conversion and being born again in the spirit. I was not on drugs; I was not in debt or suffering a major life crisis. Much like the fishermen in Jesus’ time, I was minding my own business when a “certifiable” sinner I knew intimately invited me to join a retreat.

That retreat turned into several years of seeking, church hopping, seminars and even more retreats, until the season of confrontation with my sins and hypocrisy in faith. Short version:

I submitted and made peace and served my dad, expecting nothing. As a result, I, the prodigal son, was restored. After living-in for seven years, I went without sex for 14 months, was healed of addiction to porn and predisposition to sex and discovered the beauty of intimacy and eventually got married. Last but not least, I made peace with my “enemies,” one of whom also became a Christian, one passed away a few years later and another became “a friend closer than a brother.”

The experience and process was no walk in the park. It required dumping my ego/pride. Admitting the lifestyle was ungodly and unhealthy, and most importantly believing and practicing my faith based on the word of God and not religiosity or ethnicity. I essentially entered into the will of God, not my will.

In similar and contrasting ways, there are others who faithfully observe the teachings and practices of their church, temple or beliefs but do so in an almost fanatical and ignorant way, to the point of self-harm or committing physical or mental or verbal “violence” against others, most especially sons and daughters, as was done to my friend until his death.

Our human nature leads us to nurture our children and protect our family, but the minute religion and doctrines come in, we become our children’s persecutors and tormentors. We label others as “heathens,” “infidels,” Protestants and shield our children from them as if they were the devil himself.

Loving yourself while hating others is not love. Praying for God’s will to be done on Earth as it is in Heaven is not about imposing your will. We cannot practice evangelism by dictatorship or dictate on the heart who to love. We should only Love.

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