A Star is Born-Again

You know that Karl Marx quote "Religion is the opiate of the Masses?" That is so true. That's why born-agains always look they've been dosed. Seriously, next time one of them tries to save you, look at their eyes. I bet their pupils will be all pinpoint and the whites all bloodshot or at the very least glazed over. I know that look. I wore that look for 15 years.

My opinion on religion and the existence of god fluctuates like the light of a firefly on any given day. I'm confused as fuck. The logical, mathematical side of my brain can't accept any sort of creation story, especially one that involves the formation of a female out of a male rib. What the fuck, God? Why couldn't you just make Eve the same way you made Adam? Was the rib thing really all that necessary? I think it was just grandstanding. For whom? Like who the hell does God have to impress? And it really seems to me that in some of those bible stories God is always making everything harder on himself, and on everyone else. I wonder about how much power does God actually have. Can he control time? Can he cause people to disappear at will?
Can he make people do his bidding? Or are we real and actual beings of free will? When I think too long and hard from this angle, religion starts to look like the ridiculous babblings of ridiculous people. I suffered so much spiritual abuse from people that I trusted over the years that I just don't know if I could ever trust any type of organized religion ever again in my whole life. Which sort of makes me sad. I mean I do have this deep-seated spiritual side of me that wants to believe.

I want to believe in something so desperately. It's hard for me to accept that my sister's soul is really and truly gone, that she isn't a beautiful, winged angel dancing on clouds and shit up in the heavens. I realize how ludicrous that really does sound. But death is so final, so heartbreaking, is it any wonder that people cling to fanciful ideas about the after-life? And this is where I say Religion isn't like an opiate. Religion is an opiate. Nobody loves opiates more than I do. When I take a percocet, I feel happy. Mind-blowingly happy. Deep inside I know that the happiness is artificial. I know it's a lie. But i don't really care. That happiness is so delicious I just don't care about the source. And that's what religion is. Maybe it's a crock of shit, but if it can make a life of loss bearable, if it can make the act of living something more than a Stygian hell, then who really cares if it's real or not?

Like I said, I'm confused as fuck. I saw this documentary on the Science Channel that informed me about the Big Bang Theory and the formation of star systems. And you know what? We are all stars. Every single living creature breathing on this remarkable planet are the stuff of stars. We are the children of novas. We are creatures of solar systems and suns. We are babes born of bright, burning, stellar explosions. Isn't that fucking cool? So after I heard all about my star quality, I started to think, "What do I need God for?" And then something else happened. Something so phenomenal that it changed who I was on like a cellular level forever and ever. Sometimes things happen in your life that are so bizarre that you have to accept that we are all beasts of chance and random events. Yes, it took this strange miracle for me to give up God for good: Blair Warner from Facts of Life tried to save my soul from eternal damnation.

Let me explain by first telling you, I have one of those aunts. One of those aunts that are obsessed with diets and hairdos and Jesus. She, like so many of these aunts, attends a Cavalry church. These aunts credit Jesus with every event that transpires in their lives, no matter how minuscule. "The Rice-a-roni was on sale for 99 cents a box and I got the last one! Jesus was really looking out for me today!" Because Jesus concerns himself with those sorts of things when babies are starving somewhere. But yes, Jesus Loves You and Me and Criminals and
Cockroaches, but he hates the gays, apparently. There's just no arguing with people like that. I mean I grew up a Jehovah's Witness so I can tell you firsthand this information: Even Jehovah's Witnesses roll their eyes at born-agains. We used to knock on their doors sometime out in the "ministry" and after a 45 minute conversation, we would walk away exasperated saying, "Those born-agains are crazy!" I have a born-again aunt and since I lost my religion for a while there she was hell bent on me finding a new one.

So I would get invited to many a church function. And many a church function I would be too busy to attend. But you can only be too busy so many times. So Amy and I decided that we would do it together. We'd do the church function thing and get lulled into thinking it was a fun, laid back event until we got knocked over the head with some sort of creepiness. We were game. The event was a Christmas dinner with a keynote speaker: Lisa Welchel (aka Blair Warner). Apparently Ms. Welchel joined the ranks of Kirk Cameron in the whole ex-child star who becomes a Born Again Christian thing. She also wrote a book called "Creative Correction" whereby she recommends, among other disciplinary tactics, putting hot sauce on your child's tongue for disrespectful speech. I like her already.

After an awkward dinner of making polite conversation with strangers, my sister and I were anxious for them to get the show on the road. There was an excitement in the air. Blair Warner was about to give us instructions for life. And then there she was, at the podium, with that familiar lilting slightly Southern tone to her voice cracking jokes and pretending to be one of "the people". I got lulled into believing everything was okay. Nothing weird. Nothing weird to see here folks, move along. And then:

"I want everyone here to close your eyes and bow your head."

Oh, Lord. Literally. This is what was happening. This was the part where everything gets weird. So I closed my eyes and bowed my head, because, I mean, what does one do?

"Now if there is anyone here who would like to accept Jesus as their Lord and Savior please raise your hand."

So I got curious. I wanted to see if anyone would do it. Because I have the mentality of a junior high school student. I sort of tilted my head up and opened one eye. And of course at that moment, Blair Warner is looking right at me. She had me in her sights, like I was the field mouse and she was a fucking hawk.

"Would you like to accept Jesus into your heart, young lady?" Blair Warner was looking at me. Like into my eye. Blair Warner had the most earnest, excited look on her face. She was going to bring me unto Jesus. She was about to give birth to me - a new Gwen, born again.

"No...thank you?" I whispered, barely audible. But she could tell before I even said the words. I already have a mother, Blair Warner, and she's a chain-smoker. Blair Warner's earnest expression turned a little bit sour and then she was off, on to find the next taker to swallow her bullshit. I wish I would have said, "I didn't like being born the first time, Blair, what makes you think I'd want to do it again?"

After Blair Warner tries to save your soul it's hard to believe in God anymore. It's hard for me to believe in a God that would let something like that happen to me. What's next? Is Nancy McKeon going to spearhead my intervention? That actually would be totally bitchin'. I'd quit doing drugs for Nancy McKeon. Wouldn't you?

Is there a heaven we go to when we die? Or are the people who believe that just dosing themselves with another pill laced with fantastical nonsense? Are all creatures great and small the offspring of those heavenly bodies that decorate our night sky? Or is that what we tell ourselves because we don't want to be accountable? If you think about it, either we are born of the ground and wind up in the heavens or we're born of the heavens and wind up in the ground. Either way, you and me and him and her, maybe we're all just a bunch of beautiful fucking stars, waiting to be born.