Just watched Jesus Camp. Man, that's a scary movie. Some fat lady with hair-spray laden hair terrorizing kids and speaking gibberish and making them think that they are an annointed "Army of God." She takes obvious inspiration from fundamentalist Islamic extremists and their ability to harness blind hordes of agitated youth falling over themselves to strap bombs to their bodies in the name of Allah.
The most disturbing scene in the movie, other than the lecherous old man inciting anti-abortion hysteria, has to be when some old lady walks out a standing cut-out of George W. Bush and introduces him to the children, and then proceeds to bless him. She then gives a little sentence in gibberish for good measure.
I grew up going to a church that reminded me a little too much of the Evangelical churches portrayed in the film: cheesy Christian emo-rock groups, little children forced to dance and perform cheesy songs in front of the adult congregation to multimedia presentations. . . Hypocritical adults, such as Ted Haggard and Pat Robertson, pretending to be righteous, pure, and politically wise. The facade of the attendees. The pretension of Holiness.
I even attended a brief bible study camp, where I recall the boys and girls breaking into separate groups with their "counselors," and having a question and answer session about sex. I'm pretty sure all the boys in that room were all avidly masturbating by that point in their lives, and finally the question was brought up---which was on all of our sexually charged but trying to live by our Youth Group morality minds--"Is it a sin to masturbate?" One of the youth pastors, who was a born-again surfer druggie, giggled and mumbled, "I used to masturbate. . ." The two pastors were obviously uncomfortable. The straight-edge pastor thought for a minute and then slowly replied, "Well, it is a sin to masturbate to pictures of women who are not your wife. When I am away from my wife, I will look at a picture of her. But to look at other women, whom are not your wife, is a sin." I swear to God, this was a discussion with young boys. We all knew that was a crock of horseshit, of course. How in god's name are you supposed to pull one off without some good material to look at, especially given that we didn't even really know what the sexual act was like, other than from fuzzy half-second glimpses on the "Spice" channel? I don't really remember what other nuggets of wisdom these vessels of godliness dropped.
I also recall separating into groups (with girls, this time), and sitting around looking up at the stars. We then had a "sharing" session, where we shared a powerful dream that we'd had. I told everyone about a nightmare I'd had in which I had been murdered by monsters that only I could see. There was an uncomfortable silence. The pastor said something like "well, that's interesting."
The only pleasant occurrence I can remember from that camp was in the middle of the night. We were in the mountains, so I was getting nosebleeds and my nose would always be stuffed. I excavated this massive bloody booger whole and intact, and then flicked it out into the darkness of the other kids' bunk beds. I heard a solid, halcyon "ping!" as the heavy booger hit the metal rail above someone's head. I felt extremely gratified by that sound.
I had attended this camp with another similarly critical friend, and we both agreed that it was a bunch of horseshit. We could tolerate our church's youth group and it's lesser trangressions, but this brainwashed camp stuff was ridiculous.
So yes, I used to attend my church's youth group and attend its meetings like a good young Christian. I read all of the Bible on my own, and would attempt to understand the deeper meaning behind it's anecdotes. I never liked the youth group, but I did like attending the adult sermons, and listening to a good sermon, when the pastor would go behind the surface of the myths, and find a way to connect the deeper meaning of spirituality to our transient modern daily lives.
But the youth groups were another beast altogether. They seemed to be oriented around brainwashing and peer pressure to conform to some ideal of "Christianity" that had more to do with politics then it did with the Bible.
I've noticed that the most effective tool they've got is embarrassment and peer pressure. They single you out and then say, "C'mon, why aren't you singing?" as if there's something wrong with you. You're too young to stand up for yourself and say, "You people are fucked up, and I'm not going to sing your stupid songs." But you always knew that there was something weird about it. You just simply felt outcast, and remained quiet during most of the meetings. The only interesting thing about those sessions were a couple of the girls who were cute. And the only reason you ever wanted to even strive to pretend to be righteous and holy like everyone else was simply so that they would notice you more.
My grandmother was extremely religious, but she was also extremely spiritual (notice how I have to delineate that difference, now?). She was suckered in by all that 700 club/Rush Limbaugh talk radio religious kind of crap, and she was just waiting around for the Rapture to sweep her away before the swiftly oncoming Apocalypse. But she also had a strength and wisdom within her that drew others around her like moths to the flame. And my grandmother would pray throughout the day, and she would sometimes enter into a kind of trance, and eventually begin "speaking in tongues". But this wasn't the hucksterism and exhibitionism as seen in Jesus Camp and many churches all over the nation, where depressed, lonely hypocrites act out holiness, pretend to be entered by the Holy Spirit, and mouth out gibberish. My grandmother never even knew that she was speaking in tongues. She didn't intend to do it, nor go to church and writhe around on the floor or hop up and down and shout that shit out to other people. It was done in the privacy of her own inner world. That I witnessed it had nothing to do with her trying to display it to anyone.
It was confusing to grow up with the strength of my grandmother's faith and spirituality alongside of attending a superficial church filled with rich, shallow people. I strove hard, back then, to believe what my grandmother believed. But I knew that I didn't fully believe it. I didn't feel that I could truthfully call myself a Christian, knowing this. Yet I witnessed all the churchgoers, the people who would go to church on Sunday but drop all pretense of Christianity as soon as they walked out the door. I believed more than they did. They were hypocrites, and it confused me that so many people could call themselves Christians, and have absolutely no idea of what it meant to have faith. They thought that being a Christian was going to church. They thought that it was celebrating Christmas.
Since then, I've learned to separate and distance my spirituality from religion. Fundamentalist religions the world over are brainwashing people into thinking that they have faith, into pretending that they have righteousness, when in fact all they have is collective fantasy, group hysteria. And a lot of blood on their righteous hands.