Twain and Christianity
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A contact online led me to some of Mark Twain's writings on religion. Knowing he was also a southerner who was raised on similar teachings to me - and... kinda knowing how he turned out in the end had me interested.
For those who don't know, Samuel Clemens was a deeply conflicted person in regards to religion, and it makes sense considering his upbringing and childhood culture. Even in his most heated, hateful, searing, atheistic writings you feel... a pain, a hurt, a feeling like he had been duped and is lashing out years of lies and liars, and in some sense you even get the idea that despite feeling the afterlife is all a lie, and an antiquated puzzle for fools, that he really wishes it wasn't so.
That claw sticks with you, as a nonreligious southerner. It's true. You remember, and you know that 'feeling'. You did want it to be true. You did want to believe it, to fit in, that the good word wasn't supplemented with dark words you passed over until you believed otherwise, back when huge, galactic spans of time were issued in seven day spans. The cult always looks so nice from the outside and you really don't want to admit or give credit to any of the cracks in the paint to the contrary when you're still sipping from the town kool-aid fountain along with everyone else.
Everyone you know is saying it's true, and everyone you know - as far as you know is 100% telling their heart's honest truth. Despite all this, you love and respect them as your community as they respect you into theirs.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to look one of them in the eye and say no, and watch the veil fall a little on them, then see the grip of their belief tighten against that instant of doubt, in the moment as it happens, as they choose their resolve... over you, their brother? I've seen it happen in front of me, over and over again. Sam comes off to me as someone who has seen this himself, as someone who has also been hurt by it and has felt separated from his kin by it. It does alienate you. You ask yourself over and over why they can't see and why you can, endlessly tossing it in your head like a marble with no target. It's usually at this point that an atheist goes two different ways, in my experience. They either make monsters of the religious, or realize that the true sadness is that the religious are asking them the exact same question you're asking. "Why can't you just see? Why can they?"
The funny thing is, after all these years and after reading "Letters from the Earth", and being steeped in philosophy, I get it, man. Sometimes,... you really do wish, despite everything else, despite the truth, the elephants in every room, the endless connections to political dramas, wars, corruption, and all of the lies. Despite all that, you still remember that bored kid you were in Sunday School, taking anyone's word and a smile for truth as genuine as being told a red crayon isn't blue or the green grass isn't yellow.
Packing one for you, Sam.
--
A contact online led me to some of Mark Twain's writings on religion. Knowing he was also a southerner who was raised on similar teachings to me - and... kinda knowing how he turned out in the end had me interested.
For those who don't know, Samuel Clemens was a deeply conflicted person in regards to religion, and it makes sense considering his upbringing and childhood culture. Even in his most heated, hateful, searing, atheistic writings you feel... a pain, a hurt, a feeling like he had been duped and is lashing out years of lies and liars, and in some sense you even get the idea that despite feeling the afterlife is all a lie, and an antiquated puzzle for fools, that he really wishes it wasn't so.
That claw sticks with you, as a nonreligious southerner. It's true. You remember, and you know that 'feeling'. You did want it to be true. You did want to believe it, to fit in, that the good word wasn't supplemented with dark words you passed over until you believed otherwise, back when huge, galactic spans of time were issued in seven day spans. The cult always looks so nice from the outside and you really don't want to admit or give credit to any of the cracks in the paint to the contrary when you're still sipping from the town kool-aid fountain along with everyone else.
Everyone you know is saying it's true, and everyone you know - as far as you know is 100% telling their heart's honest truth. Despite all this, you love and respect them as your community as they respect you into theirs.
Do you have any idea how hard it is to look one of them in the eye and say no, and watch the veil fall a little on them, then see the grip of their belief tighten against that instant of doubt, in the moment as it happens, as they choose their resolve... over you, their brother? I've seen it happen in front of me, over and over again. Sam comes off to me as someone who has seen this himself, as someone who has also been hurt by it and has felt separated from his kin by it. It does alienate you. You ask yourself over and over why they can't see and why you can, endlessly tossing it in your head like a marble with no target. It's usually at this point that an atheist goes two different ways, in my experience. They either make monsters of the religious, or realize that the true sadness is that the religious are asking them the exact same question you're asking. "Why can't you just see? Why can they?"
The funny thing is, after all these years and after reading "Letters from the Earth", and being steeped in philosophy, I get it, man. Sometimes,... you really do wish, despite everything else, despite the truth, the elephants in every room, the endless connections to political dramas, wars, corruption, and all of the lies. Despite all that, you still remember that bored kid you were in Sunday School, taking anyone's word and a smile for truth as genuine as being told a red crayon isn't blue or the green grass isn't yellow.
Packing one for you, Sam.