“Religion is a transaction,” I remarked.
He paused, as if accepting what I said, but not wanting to fully agree.
It was the spring of 2017, senior year in college. Like senior citizens, college seniors tend to wax philosophical over the friendships they have built over the years. It is a time to reminisce and cherish, a time to ponder and contemplate. And it was at such a time, as the cold Northeastern winter gave way to spring, that our converÂsation started.
Some friends were less interesting than others, he confessed, and it was harder to maintain these friendships. Of course, he felt guilty for saying that about a friend, but he could not help it. I pointed out that friendships were emotional transactions between two peoÂple, each providing emotional fulfillment to the other. He did not need to feel guilty if the transaction did not work out. There was no need to reward loyalty with treachery, but it was not necessary to maintain every friendship at the same level either.
I found this the perfect opportunity to bring up my most recent epiphany on religion.
“Think about this: would you still love and worship Jesus if you knew that his death did not guarantee a spot in heaven? What if, instead, worshipping Satan guaranteed a spot in heaven? Would you still worship Jesus?”
I still considered myself a Christian then. I read the Bible, went to church, attended Bible study, and joined Christian fellowships. In fact, the very person I was speaking to was part of the same Bible study and fellowship. Like many others in that fellowship, I acÂcepted most of the traditional Christian beliefs—Biblical inerrancy, salvation by faith, miracles, prophecies, and resurrection.
But my faith then, in the twilight of my college days, was not the same faith I had started college with. My faith, eroded by years of divine silence, had lost its childlike innocence and become more cynical. Where was God when I struggled with finding my major and career path? I had always been taught that God would guide me, but even as a college senior, I was still unsure of my choices. I was still waiting for my divine confirmation. I was not doing poorly, but I was not doing as well as I had hoped either. AdmitÂtedly, it is hard to stand out at an Ivy League college, but knowing this did not help my self-doubt.
Moreover, in the polarized aftermath of the 2016 elections, my inÂcreasingly liberal political stances led to growing dissatisfaction with my religious beliefs. The hypocrisy of embracing Christian morals while condemning Sharia law had bothered me for a while. Justice Kennedy’s poetic closing paragraph in Obergefell v Hodges,[1] reproduced below, awakened my contempt for the Christian opÂposition to same-sex marriage. When a friend came out a year later, I could not even bring myself to “hate the sin but love the sinner.” Instead, I could only applaud his decision to live the life he wanted. In the months after, the staunch Christian support for Trump proÂpelled my disgust for Christian morals. By the spring of 2017, my observance of Christian morals had become more reluctant than enthusiastic.
No union is more profound than marriage, for it emÂbodies the highest ideals of love, fidelity, devotion, sacrifice, and family. In forming a marital union, two people become something greater than once they were. As some of the petitioners in these cases demonstrate, marÂriage embodies a love that may endure even past death. It would misunderstand these men and women to say they disrespect the idea of marriage. Their plea is that they do respect it, respect it so deeply that they seek to find its fulfillment for themselves. Their hope is not to be condemned to live in loneliness, excluded from one of civilization's oldest institutions. They ask for equal digÂnity in the eyes of the law. The Constitution grants them that right.
- Obergefell v Hodges (2015)
It was against this spiritual backdrop that I continued.
“Sure, I might be thankful that Jesus died for me, but I don’t love him for that. It’s all transactional. I wouldn’t spend one second worshipping him if not for the promise of heaven.”
“Interesting,” came the one-word reply.
Like the discussion, my thinking that time ended there. I saw no reason to pursue it further. Church, despite the time commitments, provided me with valuable social contact. Christianity still gave me the certainty of an afterlife. Most importantly, I still believed.
[1] The United States (US) Supreme Court case whose decision in 2015 leÂgalized same-sex marriage in the entire US. Justice Kennedy wrote the majority opinion for the Court.
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