Celena Todora

Dr. Brooks

ENGL 458

8 October 2014

The Curse of Critical Thinking

I was on the verge of tears, sitting in that plush, disgustingly ostentatious armchair. I felt

as if I was isolated, although I was in a room with about seven other people seated in a circle, all

staring at me, including two of my good friends, Amy and Jackie. Lorena asked the question

again, “Celena, do people of other religions go to heaven?” She set this question up like a fact,

and with everyone staring at me, the only appropriate answer was “no,” no matter how much

fury and frustration it inflamed in me. The notion was ridiculous that people who grew up in a

different culture without any affiliation with Christianity would be eternally damned. Of course,

in my tenth grade small group at an “evangelistic,” “accepting” mega-church with discreet

Baptist influences, the answer to Lorena’s question was unwaveringly “no.” I sat in that church,

Eagle Brook, every Sunday morning and Wednesday evening because my friends would have

been astonished if I did not, yet I listened to the pastors contradict themselves on a daily basis.

They would say, “People from all faiths and backgrounds are welcome!” Yet, of course, they

would insist that only the predestined Christians would make it to heaven. I remember feeling so

confused why they would invite all of these people, including me, only to belittle us.

Looking back, I wish that I could have realized that I was not alone, that there were other

people who struggled to believe, too. I wish that my church could have been more open-minded.

In a metro area with thousands of immigrants, refugees, and people from diverse backgrounds

and religions such as Buddhism, Hinduism, Islam, etc, I think that it is important for church

leaders to be aware of the message they are sending. Undoubtedly, my church’s message was

this: only certain Christians go to heaven. Of course, as I mentioned previously, the paradox was

the incompatibility between this message and their cheesy-smiled, welcoming façade claiming

that people of all faiths were welcome. This isn’t a problem simply in Eagle Brook; I have

noticed similar patterns across the country. With the world becoming more interconnected,

churches need to consider how to create a more open-minded community that truly does accept

everyone rather than alienate people, especially if they truly wish for the congregations to grow.

Aside from Eagle Brook, I did not grow up in a Christian community, which made it

extremely difficult for me to connect with such a closed-minded community. My parents took

me to church up until I was in about second grade, but between the ages of seven and twelve,

after we stopped going, I never really thought about church. I never thought about God or hell

(by the way, I refuse to give “hell” enough credibility to capitalize it), or religion at all, for that

matter. I was decently happy with who I was and how I spent my time, but once I reached middle

school, I began experiencing contradiction between my education and the expectations within

my social group. In school, I was encouraged to form my own opinion and question existing

structures through the literature we read and the essays we were assigned. I remember in eighth

grade, I received a B- on a paper because I did not add enough of my own opinion, something

that I had not encountered much up until that point in my life. Eventually, my automatic

reactions to situations were to ask “Why” and “How,” as these questions were drilled into my

brain in academic situations.

As I began to develop more of a questioning attitude, at the same time, I realized that I

was different from my friends. Around sixth grade, my friends all began participating in

confirmation and mission trips, and I started feeling as if I was the only person who wasn’t

involved in a church community. I had several friends whose lives were orchestrated by their

religious beliefs, and this became clearer as they matured. However, I was highly critical of

religion – I needed proof, as I was taught in my English classes. You need evidence to support

your points – you have to use credible sources, and the Bible, I remember thinking, was hardly

credible. I felt as if something was wrong with me for not being religious. In my social life, I was

feeling pressure to conform to this norm, yet in school, I was required to think logically and

challenge norms. Soon my friends were questioning me, wondering why I did not go to church,

and I began to feel isolated and different. I feared that I would go to hell for my critical thoughts

that I could not control.

This diversion between academia and the religious community is often discussed, but I

never understood why it has to be like this. I think that there should be more of a bridge between

critical thinking and church. In my church, we were reproached for thinking critically, rather

than believing the views of the church. In school, we learn that practicing higher-level thinking

provides us with a greater understanding of the content. Why do churches not wish to adopt this?

Perhaps allowing the congregation to reflect on their beliefs and question the reasoning behind

them will foster a greater understanding of their faith. However, based on my own experiences,

the prevalent attitude of organized religion is that people should not question.

It had not just been in secondary school that I experienced alienation due to my lack of

experience with religion, however; I remember facing judgment for the first time in second grade

at my forced-upon-me best friend Emma's house. Emma, who was too needy and dependent on

her mother to function, was my most irritating friend. We were sitting in her immaculately

arranged basement, playing a perfectly safe game of dolls without any interesting plot line or

conflict. Needless to say, I was bored and wanted to go home. It was Saturday, and Emma had

asked me, “Are you going to church tomorrow, or do you want to go to my church?” Her church,

of course, was one of those trendy and “free,” yet surprisingly closed-minded, evangelistic

churches much like Eagle Brook. I replied, “I don't go to church.” Emma then stared at me

incredulously and gasped, “You stopped going to church?” Seconds after, Emma’s always-in-

earshot mother appeared, shocked, and questioned, “Your mom stopped taking you to church?” I

remember feeling their judgment burn into my entire body as I sat there, feeling completely

ashamed for a reason that I did not understand. I personally did not enjoy church or feel the need

for it in my life, but having these opinions seemed wrong, and I was too young to understand

why. Although I had many glorious years without having to worry about religious differences,

this embarrassment and alienation undoubtedly resurfaced in early high school.

This experience of alienation led me to make more of an effort to get involved with

religious groups just so I did not feel as alone, which is what compelled me to join the further

emotionally damaging small group at Eagle Brook Church in ninth grade. The church was one of

those mega-churches that expanded across the metropolitan area of the Twin Cities. It was not so

large at the time – only about three campuses – but if you go there today, you will see those

disgustingly cult-like “EBC” bumper stickers from Blaine to Cottage Grove. Services were more

like concerts than your typical church service. The auditorium held over three hundred people,

and the music was always played by Christian rock bands. Everyone but me always seemed to

know all of the songs; I remember feeling increasingly insecure as my friends would close their

eyes, belt the lyrics, and sway to the music with their arms in the air as if they were possessed.

The deafeningly loud music nearly shattered my eardrums, and my friends liked to stand as close

to the stage as possible so you could practically become one with the band, which, of course

made me even more uncomfortable. I remember being so confused why I felt the pressure to

behave and believe as others were because school had molded me into such a critical person.

Yet, I stuck out like a sore thumb; I would stand there rigidly, avoiding eye contact with

everyone, pleading for the music portion of the service to end as everyone around me stared

straight ahead and swayed with their arms limply flopping through the air like zombies.

On Wednesday nights, following these concert-like performances for cult-like followers,

small-group meetings were held throughout the church, which made me feel even more alienated

and uncomfortable. Our small-group leader was Lorena, a young woman with staunch, often

nonsensical beliefs. Nonetheless, she expected that we each share her beliefs and did not allow

for difference in opinion during our meetings. She expected us to believe that only predestined

people go to heaven, especially not those sinful Muslims and Jews. She expected us to believe

that reading stories of witchcraft would expose us to the ideas of the devil and make us more

susceptible to possession. I would laugh at the idiocy of her words in my head, following my

ingrained instinct to question what I was told, but I was the only one of my friends who

questioned Lorena. I remember one day, she discussed how reading Harry Potter can result in

the development of sinful powers. I remember thinking, well that would be freaking awesome,

but I also remember the alarmingly solemn faces of my friends as she described how this can

cause you to become possessed by the devil. That was the scariest part for me – trying to ridicule

her beliefs amongst my friends afterwards only to experience admonishment in return. “What

makes you say it’s not true?” My friend Amy argued as we walked outside of the church to

locate our parents’ cars. I remember being shocked that Amy would believe her, yet frightened

that I was the only one who didn’t. This brought me into deep paranoia that I was wrong and

going to hell, while my friends were on the right track.

There was a considerable disconnect between what I was learning in school and what I

was experiencing within my group of friends. In school, we were taught – expected, even – to

think critically; however, if I questioned anything I was told in church, I was scolded. It didn’t

make sense to me. School influenced me to question everything I was told, and it soon spread

into my everyday life. It was such a natural reaction for me to question, “Why?” or “How?” but

these questions were discouraged in church. Instead of reacting confidently in my own natural

instincts, however, I continued to focus on how different I was from my friends and interpreted

this difference as being wrong.

I wish that I could have grown up in a different religious community that was more open-

minded that the one I somehow fell into as an adolescent. Today I am a part of the Unitarian

Universalist (UU) Church in Fargo, which has been the only church in my life that I have ever

felt a part of – the only truly accepting church I have ever encountered. At the UU, we are

expected to form our own opinions and question stagnant ideologies, which aligns much more

with my educational instruction. Growing up in the community of the UU Church would have

diminished the anxiety and frustration that consumed my adolescent years. The UU accepts

people from all belief systems and creeds; unlike the Eagle Brook church of my high school

years, the UU does not impose narrow-minded beliefs on its congregation – it allows people to

believe what they want and even explore other religions. Adolescence is already a torturous

period in many people’s lives; when kids are already struggling to find their place at the lunch

table, I argue that they shouldn’t have to undergo deep religious conflicts. Therefore, I think that

more parents should encourage their children to become involved with organizations like the UU

because it is an environment that is considerably less emotionally detrimental to children who are

taught question what they are told. Perhaps if I had grown up in the UU, I would have met other

kids who felt just as frustrated with religion as I was.

Unfortunately, I spent my adolescence with peers who constantly put me down for my

questioning, so I was afraid that I was somehow going to be punished for being different. My

best friend Emily was becoming increasingly active in her church, and she would often project

her religious morals onto me, which made me feel further alienated. I remember when she

scorned me for wearing a bikini in ninth grade because it was “inappropriate.” I could not

comprehend why it was considered inappropriate to wear bikinis, but I soon became afraid that I

was wrong for questioning Emily’s morals. I began to realize that all of my friends had such

strong beliefs and morals stemming from religion, while I had nothing. I tried to believe, I really

did. I prayed to God every night that I could fit in like everyone else, but each time I did that, I

felt as if I was talking to no one. Yet at school and in Eagle Brook, people spoke of having a

“relationship” with God. I began to question whether or not their “relationship” was imagined,

but then I quickly scolded myself for thinking this way. My doubts surfaced through my thoughts

beyond my control, and I was so scared that I was living my life wrong, even though I was a

good person. I helped people whenever I could, I did most of my assignments to the best of my

ability, and I was polite and respectful to my family. However, according to Eagle Brook’s

values, I was still going to hell for not really believing in God.

Although I was feeling so alone amongst my social group, I experienced comfort

whenever I stomped home to my mother in frustration. My mother always knew what to say to

make me feel better because she admitted that she never knew what to believe her entire life. I

had not realized this when I was younger, but we were able to have discussions about religion

towards the end of high school that made me feel less isolated in my doubts. She would tell me

not to worry – she, herself, was never sure what to believe, which was why we went through the

motions of church when I was a child. She encouraged my critical attitude, and we would often

tear apart the closed-minded preaching I experienced at Eagle Brook or the unwavering yet

questionable morals of my friends. She helped me see the ridiculousness of believing blindly,

and I was lucky to have such a strong relationship with my mom while I was experiencing such

isolation. She was able to alleviate my worries to a certain extent; however, I think, like any

adolescent, I viewed fitting in as more influential than my mother’s opinions, so I often still

became fearful that she was wrong about the world, that there really was one right way to think.

It doesn’t have to be like that. I think parents can try to more actively talk to their

children about religion so that they don’t feel so alone and confused like I did. I think that many

parents are afraid to admit to their own children that they, too, are doubtful, but it would alleviate

the worries of children like me if parents would just talk to their kids honestly about their doubts.

As for parents who are more confident in their beliefs, I think it’s important to remember that

there are so many different perspectives in the world, and helping children understand that at a

young age fosters a more open-minded society. Had some of my ardently religious peers would

have been more open-minded, I would not have felt so isolated.

Soon my fear of being different turned to hopelessness, the more that I realized how

much faith each of my friends had in comparison to me. I used to journal a lot back then – only

whenever I was sad, really. If you read my diary from ninth to eleventh grade, you would only

see a series of entries expressing my fear of going to hell and complete depression towards being

so different from everyone else. I cried myself to sleep every night because it was so unfair. I

tried so hard to feel what my friends were feeling; I felt like I was trying to pull a halted train

across the country – I was not moving anywhere despite my arduous efforts. I continued to pray

to God in guilt, but this only increased my paranoia and sadness. It was never right. It was never

like my friend Alyssa described it – feeling relief that there is someone out there who cares about

you and can help solve your problems. I never felt that; the more I attempted to form a

relationship with God, the more isolated I felt. I soon began pretending when I talked to my

friends. I would discuss with them how God gets me through the day, even though underneath I

felt like an imposter, utterly morally inferior to my pious friends.

One of my most devout Christian friends was named Alyssa. Alyssa’s views influenced

my own spiritual journey quite a bit. Her views were more extreme than any of my other friends.

I used to be embarrassed that I did not hold similar views as Alyssa, but I now realize that her

beliefs hurt her more than they help her. I remember in eleventh grade she came to me crying,

certain that her parents were going to hell because they were not religious. Her father was a

Native American and her mother was raised an atheist, so they grew up unexposed to the

Christian religion. I, personally, thought it was unfair that they would be punished for ignorance,

but Alyssa was convinced that this was their fate. Alyssa helped me realize the unhealthy side

effects of allowing religion to consume my life. Alyssa, herself, struggled every day with the fear

that many of her friends and family members were going to hell, which hurt her emotionally. She

blindly believed what she was told, even though it felt unjust in her heart. I realized that I was

experiencing a similar pattern myself; I was so consumed with fear and sadness that I would go

to hell that I wasn’t really living and wasn’t being true to my natural, questioning self. I had

previously felt like it was a curse that I was so skeptical, but now I value my education’s

emphasis on questioning.

Today, I am not so concerned with not being religious because I realized that religion

should not inflict fear in people. I am still unable to find the faith that my high school friends

had, but I now understand that my own happiness is more important – attempting to build a

relationship with God from nothing and denying my natural thought process only damaged me

emotionally and psychologically. I used to be so jealous of people who have faith, but I now

understand that it only works for some people. Some people thrive from believing in God and

heaven, but I am not the type of person who can easily experience this. I now do not fear

questioning peoples’ beliefs, appropriately, of course. It was very difficult for me to get to this

point, but it helped me considerably when I realized that I was not truly the only person, aside

from my mother, who struggled with believing.

When I went to college, I began to form friendships with people who weren’t religious,

allowing me to become more secure with myself. My first college boyfriend, Matt, helped me

see the humor in the situation, which was significant in relieving my anxiety. I loved that I was

able to laugh about being doubtful and see the ridiculousness of how extreme religion can make

people sometimes. Together we were allowed to be critical, an opportunity I had very little

experience with in high school. Building a support system of people like me helped me become

confident enough to realize that there was nothing wrong with questioning religion. When I

began working at the Center for Writers and meeting other English majors in my classes, I found

that there were many people who were agnostic or atheists, which I was not as exposed to in my

narrow group of friends in high school. Finding my niche was just what I needed to understand

that it is okay to embrace my natural instincts and not fear that I am not in the majority.

Even if churches cannot become more accepting and open-minded, or parents cannot

sympathize with their struggling children, I hope at least that people who are struggling with

religion can find a community of people like them, as I did. I did not try accurately, of course,

because I just fell into social groups and realized afterwards how fortunate I was, but it is

possible for people to reach out and discover other people. In even the most conservative

communities, it is possible to find agnostic groups. They may meet frequently and host events, or

just once a month, but if you just search for them, you will most likely find them. Even if you

cannot find any in your area, there are numerous groups online that host online discussions. With

social media today, it is easy to search for and connect with these groups – you just can’t be

afraid. For people like me who have struggled with feelings of alienation due to religion, it is

impossible for me to describe how comforting it truly is to finally identify with people. While it

would be more ideal for the community to be more open-minded, if you find yourself seemingly

isolated in a closed-minded community, there are communities of people with similar

experiences out there; you just have to find them.

I hate the conflicting values I felt growing up: in school, I was encouraged to think

critically, yet my social community disparaged those who questioned “the word of God.” Of

course, it is difficult to bring universal open-mindedness to a community, but I think it’s

important for parents, teachers, church leaders, and any other role models to keep this in mind in

their interactions with young people. Religion doesn’t have to be so closed-minded; I believe that

it is important to encourage adolescents to question, rather than insist that they believe something

that just does not come naturally to them.