Today I attended the funeral of my
human father. There is much I could say about him, but I have more to
say about the nightmare that was his funeral. I knew that his wife
was Christian and that the funeral would likely have a lot of
prayer. My worst fears were confirmed when there was no funeral
service – only a sermon.
The man that was my father never
attended church. He believed in God, but was never a religious
person. My beliefs came from my fairy mother, which was to be open
minded about all things. We were taught to love everyone and to never
judge others. I'm about to break that last part.
I watched two Baptist preachers read
from the old testament. All they talked about was God and Jesus, with
my father barely receiving a mention. He was an after thought.
Neither preacher had ever met my father more than a couple of times.
They knew absolutely nothing about him. Neither took the time to even
find out the names of his family.
My family and I sat in horror at the
display of disconnection and lack of empathy for anyone other than
my father's selfish wife. What had even more impact were the zombies
who watched the preacher with unflinching devotion. They were
transfixed on words they had heard a million times. They were
mesmerized by words about the wonderful caring God, with no mention
of disease and starvation that fills the world.
If there was this all powerful God
there would be no hunger, no disease, and no Christian father's
raping daughters. There would be no child abuse. Christians hate more
than anyone I have ever seen. They look down on others simply because
of whom they choose to love, or their chosen lifestyle.
