When I was 15 years old, I worried a lot about what Jesus said in the Gospels. Yea, I was a bit different from most guys my age, who mostly worried about playing sports, getting hold of contraband (cigarettes, liquor, marijuana), and getting girls to notice them and perhaps allow them into the garden of sensual delights. For a host of reasons that would require a small book to explain and a panel of shrinks to interpret, I became more and more religious just as most kids lost interest in churchgoing. I was taking the Gospels seriously, looking to them as the rulebook by which I was to live my life.
The problem with that is that Jesus set really high standards. I became increasingly worried about my ability to live up to his standards; like hey, even thinking about sex was just as much a sin as doing it! So I started going to confession a lot (that wonderful Roman Catholic ritual of having a priest listen to your sins and give you pardon, on the condition that you perform some penance – usually saying a bunch of prayers), because I was afraid of the danger of going to hell for not fulfilling the strict standards that Jesus set.
A few years later, when facing the possibility of being drafted into military combat service in Vietnam, I decided to file for conscientious objector status so that I would not violate Jesus’ blanket prohibition on taking another human life. » continue reading …
