Original "clickable" magazine article.
Life as a heathen in the Bible BeltBy Kim Hildenbrand
“Have you found a church family yet?”
I’d never been asked this question before in my
life, but since moving to the South four years ago,
I’ve heard it dozens of times.
At first I didn’t understand. Had I found a
church? A family? Huh? And why did the
questioner care if and where I went to church?
Four years later, I now understand the question.
But it never fails to rattle me.
You see, I don’t go to church. I’m not religious.
I certainly have nothing against religion, and I’m
happy for people who are happy being religious.
But I myself am not.
People have asked me why, and the answer
is simply, I don’t know. I just didn’t grow up going
to church. It never struck me as unusual because
I didn’t live in a particularly religious area. In fact,
only a couple of my childhood friends went to
church. My lack of religion just wasn’t an issue.
That was then.
Though living in Alabama has been an amazing
experience, I am well aware that I’m an outsider.
I don’t have a Southern accent, and sometimes I
have a bit of trouble understanding the really thick
ones. I don’t go for Southern food much, except
the occasional fried okra. And — here it comes — I
don’t watch football. Not even college football; not
even Alabama vs. Auburn.
But perhaps what makes me most different is
the fact that I don’t attend church. For one thing,
my lack of religion seems to startle and unnerve
people. When a new acquaintance asks, “Have you
found a church family?,” I steel myself. And then I
say, “We don’t go to church.” I used to chirp, “Not
yet! We’re new here.” But even I have to admit that
four years is not new anymore, and I don’t want to
lie. I say no, and I try to change the subject, but the
awkwardness is still palpable.
When I first moved here, I wondered why
people assumed that everyone goes to church. I
tend to harbor few assumptions about people in
general. For instance, I wouldn’t ask a stranger,
“Where do your children go to school?” without
knowing whether she has children. To me, the
assumption that everyone does anything — goes to
church, has children — was just plain strange. Now I
understand that it is a fair assumption, and a mainly
accurate assumption.
Happily, most of the wonderful people I’ve met
in Alabama have been kind to me even after
knowing I’m not religious. Once a woman said
to me, “Do you know that you’re going to hell?” I
didn’t dignify that with a response, but I thought
about it for a long time. And I concluded that she
had to be wrong.
Because, the thing is, I am a good person. A
real-life goodie-two-shoes, in fact. I’ve never tried
drugs before — never even smoked pot. I’ve never
stolen anything. I rescue injured animals. I donate
money to good causes. I’m devoted to my family.
I’m the kind of person people phone at 2 a.m. when
their car breaks down and they need a ride. I’ll
admit it — I’m actually pretty geeky, straight as an
arrow, considering my idea of a rockin’ evening is a
bubble bath and a good book.
But, ironically, in my years here I have met
various people (some of whom happen to be
church devotees) who do steal, do drugs and lie.
I’ve seen them spank their children — hard — and
say terrible things to them. I suppose they feel God
will forgive them, like religion is some sort of moral
Get Out of Jail Free card. But logically, if God is
that forgiving, I would guess God will forgive me
for not being religious.
But those experiences are few and far between,
and above all, I’m glad that the people around me
have something in their lives that makes them as
happy as their church families do. Something so
positive and good. And aside from being told I
was headed for hell, my other gripes are relatively
minor.
I don’t like it when people tell me that God has
a plan for me, because I have a plan for me, too. It
actually makes me a bit nervous when people make
questionable decisions and assume all will turn out
because of God’s plan.
I don’t like it when people ask for prayers and
get offended when I say, “You’re in my thoughts.”
I don’t like being told — often via strange e-mail
forwards — that many things I consider healthy and
positive are sins. Gay relationships. Masturbation.
Birth control. I simply don’t understand, as I’m all
for tolerance.
Frankly, I want people to tolerate me.
Recently during a casual gathering, one of the
women said, “I find now I don’t even like to be
around people who aren’t Christians anymore. I
wouldn’t want one as a friend.” The others agreed
fervently.
Cue Kim. Exit stage left. But I didn’t want to
hurt anyone’s feelings, so I sat quietly with my
hands in my lap, a frozen smile on my face and
tried to nod at the appropriate times.
I know most church-going people probably
think I’m missing something. Something so huge
it can’t be put into words. And as an open-minded
person, I can say that I understand why they feel
that way, and that maybe they’re right.
But for now, I find what I’m looking for, what I
need out of life, in the little things: My daughter’s
smile. My husband’s arm around me. My dogs’
warm bodies curled against me. A beautiful
painting by my grandmother, happy faces at a
family reunion, a breathtaking sunset. And the
knowledge that I’m a good person, a moral person,
a person who tries so hard not to hurt others.
That’s enough for me. I wish it were enough for
everyone else.
“I didn’t know I had a quarrel with him.”
~ Henry Thoreau in answer to the question,
“Have you made your peace with God?"
Thanks to Kathy in AL for sending this essay.
