Final Words On Catholicism; How About That Wisconsin Diocese?


So. Today is the last day that I’m saying anything about my quest for answers about Catholic Church dogma. I started this quest using the word “beliefs” instead of dogma, but the results of my research has beaten me like a dog, and I have come to realize that the entirety of Catholic rules are man made, not the Rule of God. Are those the origins of the word dogma—beaten like a dog and man?

That disappoints me for some reason. As you know, I was raised Baptist. In fact I have the distinction of being baptized twice in the same church by the same preacher—an events sequencing that was frowned upon by the church’s elite, including my own mother. I was saved and dunked the first time before puberty, a trip to Pastor Browningwell’s alter under the required repentant trance.

First time I was petrified of going to Hell—I was a sinner with my first breath of worldly air and never stopped sinning—and I was convinced that Jesus, sweet Jesus, was my only salvation. From that date until I was raped by my Boy Scout Leader—one of the same Deacons who approved of my baptism and membership into his church—I was a devout Baptist boy.

Post rape I was a changed man, and I didn’t even attend church until I fell in love at aged fourteen. She required me to rededicate myself before letting me fondle her breasts. I’d have become a fucking Catholic priest if that was a requirement to fondle her breasts.

Now you might think that I’m off the tracks here, but I’m not. See the Baptists have a hard-and-fast rule, a rule that says, “Once saved, always saved.” That’s right, folks, since I walked the aisle and honestly pledged my faith to Jesus, I can do nothing to that will put me in Hell. And since I walked the aisle twice, I figure I’ve got chairs reserved at both the right and left hands of Jesus.

As a Baptist myself, I can say with absolute surety that the Baptists make shit up. They might use the Bible as a false front man, but they just make shit up. They “interpret” Biblical words in ways to further their self interests.

As a somewhat-thinking man, I know that the very Bible itself is a confusing sequence of interpretations itself. If we believe the Bible, its oldest stories predate written language by thousands of years, which means that God’s original words had to be passed down through hundreds of generations of interpreters before anything was even written on rocks. If you then factor the changes of language that happened with all the wars and the transitory lifestyles of those olden days, you can only imagine how much of God’s Word was lost in translation.

As BJ said in a comment on an earlier post, the original religions served as the lawmakers for early civilizations. That vested power and authority into the religious leaders, many of whom were, simply put, the strongest. Not necessarily the smartest, nor the nicest.

Which raises another issue for me. Let’s say I’m the scribe for an early sect of Jews in the era before papyrus and lambskin paper. My fictional tribe actually pre-date formal Jewishness by a few hundred years. Here I sit with my limestone slabs, flint hammer and point. Maybe I’m smart and have invented a mallet using a rock tied to a stick with a catgut binding. I’m at the feet of our tribal leader and head Priestess, Remarka.

Remarka has grown old and wishes to pass her knowledge to her successor and I’m the clan’s scribe. I’m named scribe because I’m not strong enough to fight or hunt, and I’ve an artistic bent which lends itself to neat handwriting. Remarka has just finished dictating early Genesis and I’ve scribed my way to the fourth day.

The Priestess is growing weak, so she tells me to listen to the rest of Genesis while she has the strength. She doesn’t have time to wait for me to painstakingly scribe onto the stones, so she asks me to listen to the entire story and then write it all down. Remarka restarts the story with how God created Eve in Her image and then made man from an unnecessary flap of flesh that covered Eve’s butt crack. Early on God thought that assholes were going to be ugly and would need to be hidden under the fleshy cover, but She changed her mind. As a woman deity, God felt OK changing Her mind. This flesh became Adam’s pecker, and therefore was how man’s obsessions began.

I listen to the whole thing—all the way to when Remarka’s predecessor, Noahina, had saved all the living things in the Great Flood. Remarka sighs deeply and says to me, she says, “Lunarius, I want you to tell the clan that I name as my successor…”

The great High Priestess coughed, and without another word, she died. And the rest is history.

How many times did that sort of shit happen over ten thousand years? And have you ever thought of this? How fucking hard is it to erase a mistake from a stone tablet? “What do you mean you said ‘Jessia’ Master. I thought you said ‘Jesus’ was to be the Messiah’s name. Don’t worry, I’ll change that to Jessia” later.”

I actually feel a little dumb for thinking that I could find God’s hand in religion. Modern Christianity has killed spirituality and replaced it with the self-serving of the old men who rule each Christian cult.

I, for one, hope that there is a heaven. How cool would that be? But no God that I could trust would require me to act like a perfect contemporary Baptist or Catholic. My God isn’t an asshole.

This shit has absolutely worn me out. Manana, y’all.

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3 Responses to “Final Words On Catholicism; How About That Wisconsin Diocese?”

  1. bj says:

    Yeah …. I’ve made a lotta them hollow promises to “God” over my 60+ years too … usually when I was in a tight spot and “tasting my ass”, as they say. Went to Mass a couple of times to impress/mistract a young lady’s parents from my intended intentions with their daughter, too. Perhaps a new book in the making? “The Newest Testament” by Mooner Johnson ….. and calling yourself Lunarius is a perfect fit ….. I’d buy THAT book too! Scribe ON, bro’!

  2. squatlo says:

    I kinda like “Remarka” as the High Priestess of your drama, Mooner. Just work the Emperor Fabulous into the story and you’ve got yourself an HBO series.

  3. admin says:

    Beej. I usualyy don’t promise God when I’m in those taste-of-ass situations. I’m usually cussing myself for bieng so fucking stupid to… (fill in the balnk). But I think my newest additions to the Bible would be called “The Retestament” wherein the actual words of Jesus are retrofitted into a Broadway show.

    Squat. I’d want to resurect Freddy Mercury for the part, and Lizzy Taylor for Remarks.

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