camp: Taos Pueblo,
near Santa Fe, New Mexico
Something
about churches always gets me. I wasn’t raised religiously, so maybe it’s
because the event I most associate with churches is a funeral. I sat through
services for Nonny, Papa, Grandpa Jim, Grandma Mary and Grandpa Dan. And I feel
them whenever I’m back in a church. Especially Nonny. So much of my family
history goes back to her, and I’ll always regret not having more time to hear
those stories from her. Just the same way I’ll always regret not being old
enough to argue politics with Grandpa Jim wen he was still sane enough to do
it.
That
church on the Taos Pueblo was really cool, though. Catholicism is so similar to
pantheism in the way it’s practiced by some communities. Cultural fusion…I go
back and forth on Jesus. He was a radical, a social revolutionary and basically
a communist, yet that message has been lost in today’s world. Do the millions
of poor and enslaved who still follow him find hope in the prospect of a better
afterlife? Or do they pray for revolution in this one? Church can be a forum
for social issues, a lightning rod for activism. Or to can just be a way to
numb the pain. I love places that whisper revolution quietly, places that you
know would take to the streets if the opportunity presented itself. But I’m
still not sure about the church.
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