Fundamentalists

fun·da·men·tal·ism (fnd-mntl-zm)
n.
1. A usually religious movement or point of view characterized by a return to fundamental principles, by rigid adherence to those principles, and often by intolerance of other views and opposition to secularism.

While I will probably be branded a traitor for this post and most likely get the equivalence of an old fashioned stoning, I will go ahead anyway and post my thoughts on the above said definition.

I can, with confidence, say that I have in one lifetime experienced two types of fundamentalism; one type {Independent Fundamental Baptist} I spent as a member, and I use that term lightly, for 10 LONG years and the other...get ready ye rigid ones to cast the first stone...Traditional Roman Catholic for eight years. I must say for all intents and purposes that I still attend the Traditional Mass of the Roman Catholic Church as I feel there are far too many abuses in the Liturgy in the newer rite (though I still attend the Novus Ordo quite frequently - it's not my first choice), but the difference NOW is that I do not claim to be a "Traditionalist," which many wear as a badge of honor. I can see the heads of many shaking back and forth and the whispers of, "Oh no, that poor soul. She's lost her way. She's fallen off the traddy wagon. What could have gone wrong with her?" I've toyed around with this subject on other posts prior to this, but I have never really gone for the jugular, which I hope I don't do now, but I am pretty certain it will come across that way.

So what the heck am I talking about? I am talking about extremes in life. I am talking about the exclusion of others, or the casting off of those who seem to "back-slide," who do not fit the mold of a given group of people. I'll give some examples below and hope the reader might have a slight insight into how fundamentalism in ANY religion can be a bad thing and do irreputable harm.

I am 15-years-old and getting ready to walk into Sunday evening church service at the Baptist church we had been attending since I was 12. A friend of my mother's, who was coming with us and who had just left her abusive husband, starting her life over again, escaping with her young son with the aid of my mother and my sister and I. We went into her home, packed up her things as quickly as we could in complete FEAR that this woman's husband would come home at any moment, catch us and then who knows what would happen then. Yes, there are many things wrong with this scenario, one being why on earth would any mother allow her two daughters to "help" her move a friend out of her house, thereby putting her two children in harms way, but I digress and will tuck that away for another post in the future. At any rate, we got this woman into her little one bedroom apartment and my mother invited her to come with us to church one Sunday evening. So we, who had been attending this church for three years at that point knew the unspoken rule of women and girls in skirts, men in ties, was not clearly relayed to my mother's friend, who promptly showed up to service in jeans and a shirt and high heels, LOTS of lipstick and very blue eyeshadow, very popular in the 1980's. Not a single person showed her any welcome. Not one. The Pastor even asked visitors to raise their hand, which she did and she got stares and glares of disapproval; my guess - what was going through their mind was "poor lost unsaved soul." I remember feeling my cheeks burn a bright red and feeling so badly for this woman, who could have used the warmth of those who portrayed themselves as being part of the "elect" of God Almighty, except they lacked the one quality that shows you are one of God's followers and that is charity. Charity comes in many different colors, not just dropping a dollar in the Salvation Army kettle outside Walmart.

Fast forward. I am 40 uh - ish, sitting at Mass, again knowing the dress code because not only is it spoken it is clearly spelled out and defined in print in the church bulletin and on a giant sign in the lobby. Now, I am not against dressing up for our Lord when we go to visit Him in church. We would if we were invited to see the president {well, maybe not this CURRENT president} or the Queen etc...so why not dress up for OUR King and Savior? At any rate, that doesn't mean there will be the "strays" that come in "off the street" to Mass, completely unaware that this is NOT your "regular" Catholic Mass. These poor, unsuspecting folks would walk in wearing jeans, T-shirt, sometimes *gasp* shorts, and the looks - if they were arrows there would be so many holes driven into the visitor that they would then turn into a nice water can for the garden. My heart would always go out to them...always because the vision of my mother's friend walking into the Baptist church in her jeans and high heels and basically being treated as a leper was all too fresh in my mind. I tried to make it a point to smile at these unsuspecting visitors, let them know that - yeah - there was someone who feels your pain and wants you to feel okay about coming into God's house.

St. Francis of Assisi says this, "Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words." It's how we react to people different from us; showing God's love to them that changes hearts; not in rules and regulations and unspoken laws that we are expected to just know by osmosis.

I am now 18, sitting in the Baptist youth group that I had been part of since I was 15 years old. My sister and I were sitting in the back row, CLEARLY not wanting to be there. We had recently lost our father to an automobile accident and were, in a way, rebelling against such a strict set of rules; probably a very normal reaction and normal stage in the grief process. The youth pastor was doing "Bible Drills" wherein each youth group member was picked to a team and each team would compete against the other at who could find the verse called out by the youth pastor first. Two captains were selected and one by one teens were chosen for team one or team two. My sister and I were sitting in the back row, long faced, half heartedly wanting to even BE there when we realize we are the LAST two people left NOT to be chosen for a team. The Youth Pastor then starts the drills, even though we were clearly excluded from being picked to a team and probably because we were considered "rebellious" and "angry teens" and probably a "bad influence" on the rest of the group. So, there we sit, unpicked as the Bible Drill begins. We look at each other, shove our chairs out from under us - making quite a loud exit, up the stairs and OUT the church we went. We never returned. Instead of recognizing, "Hey these two girls JUST lost their father, our church accountant and upstanding member of our church community - maybe, just maybe they are hurting and need to feel the loving arms of their church community." No. Not so. Charity folks. Charity. That's all that was needed to heal so many wounds.

Fast forward, I am *cough* later 30's with several very small children at Mass; children who did NOT comprehend that hey, when you are at Mass you must be quiet. Having three in diapers at one time and trying to keep those said three quiet was - well not going to happen. We were in the infamous "cry room" for mothers with small children. At this point there was no video or audio so we would leave the door cracked to at least hear what point of the Mass we were at. I was closest to the door and trying to strain to listen to where we were when a guy gets up from his seat and shuts the door on me. I was stunned. Stunned, shocked and angry. I open the door again - cracked it mind you - when same gentleman gets up and shuts the door on me AGAIN. This time I am boiling! Boiling mad that the 10 mothers in this room cannot even CRACK the door to hear where we were in the Mass without it being slammed in our faces, literally, because our children were making too much noise. Me, being irish, and at this point pretty ticked off swung the door WIDE open and placed myself, along with the baby in the sling attached to me in front of the door to ensure no one would "lock us out of Mass again." Wouldn't you know he got up to TRY to shut the door when I *eh-hem* gently tell him that we have every right to hear the Mass as you do, now take your seat. This of course, did NOT go over very well. I was scolded at the end of Mass and told if the children were too noisy they should be taken outside. Hmmm....outside in the middle of January. Gee, what a great idea!

What different results BOTH of the above scenarios would have had if the body of Christ - His community of believers had even an ounce of charity in their heart.

I do not offer these examples to cause scandal, I offer them because I believe sometimes a false zeal for what you *think* is just and good, is really very harmful and damaging to God's people - people on a different path, a different course, a different road than you are on at such a specific moment in time. How much different any of the above examples might have turned out had a little charity, a little understanding and little tolerance to the fact that not everybody walks the same road at the same time, that perhaps some folks are pruned by Christ in extremely different ways to get to the outcome that He desires for us.

Fundamentalism at its core is NOT a good thing and yes, I can say I have jumped off the ride. I would rather be a spectator in the park watching the people on the ride than actually be strapped into a little car going through the loopdy-loops, rather -happy I am grounded, not worrying about what is coming around the next turn on the ride and ducking out of the way of the vomit from the person who just can't handle the ride in the first place.

We are supposed to be lowly in God's eyes and show charity and kindness. That is what makes folks say, "What is it that SHE has that I don't have?" Preach the Gospel at all times and when necessary use words.

I choose to get off the Fundamentalist ride and try to get back to a simpler path; shedding the chains that bind, ridding myself of the heavy cloak worn by most in the former groups.