This is the latest installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
You know how us Catholic girls can be We make up for so much time a little too late I never forgot it, confusing as it was No fun with no guilt feelings The sinners, the saviors, the lover-less priests I’ll see you next Sunday
We all had our reasons to be there We all had a thing or two to learn We all needed something to cling to So we did
I sang Alleluia in the choir I confessed my darkest deeds to an envious man My brothers they never went blind for what they did But I may as well have In the name of the Father, the Skeptic and the Son I had one more stupid question
We all had our reasons to be there We all had a thing or two to learn We all needed something to cling to So we did
What I learned I rejected but I believe again I will suffer the consequence of this inquisition If I jump in this fountain, will I be forgiven
We all had our reasons to be there We all had a thing or two to learn We all needed something to cling to So we did
We all had delusions in our head We all had our minds made up for us We had to believe in something So we did
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
This is the latest installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
Today’s Song of Sacrilege is Hold On, Hold On by Neko Case.
he most tender place in my heart is for strangers I know it’s unkind, but my own blood is much too dangerous Hangin’ round the ceiling half the time Hangin’ round the ceiling half the time
Compared to some, I’ve been around But I really tried so hard
That echo chorus lied to me with its Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
In the end, I was the mean girl Or somebody’s in between girl Now it’s the devil I love And that’s as funny as real love
I leave the party at 3 a.m. Alone, thank God With Valium from the bride It’s the devil I love, it’s the devil I love And that’s as funny as real love And that’s as real as true love
That echo chorus lied to me with its Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
That echo chorus lied to me with its Hold on, hold on, hold on, hold on
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
This is the latest installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
Today’s Song of Sacrilege is If There Is A God (He’s A Queen) by Romanovsky & Philips.
I’ve been around the block I’ve seen a lot of sights From the outback of Australia To Alaska’s northern lights And I have to say I’m so impressed With the beauty of this earth And I have theory to impart For whatever it is worth
Chorus: Just think about the things you’ve seen The mountains and the oceans and the prairies in between Oh, people can’t you see It’s obvious to me That if there is a god, he’s a queen
Just drive through the Canyonlands And you, too, will believe ‘Cause there are color combinations That no straight man could conceive The striations and the textures You will see there in the land Could have only been invented by A nelly holy man
(Chorus)
Now the Bible says He did it all within a week And I’m quite impressed Thought I’ve also got a small critique He should not have taken that seventh day of rest ‘Cause he could have done a little more work On the Midwest (at least Ohio!)
Stroll through New England When Autumn’s in full force To confirm my reference to the sexual preference Of the one we call The Source And if you think I need more evidence To really validate my claim What about the guy who wrote “For purple mountains’ majesty Above the ‘fruited’ plain?”
(Chorus)
Now it seems we’ve solved one mystery Of the earth and its creator Jesus might have been a carpenter But his father was a decorator
(Chorus)
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
This is the latest installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
Listen in, it isn’t when you’re talking for your name’s sake Jesus, Mary Magdalene you are, are you okay? Sitting by the well, Jill, your falling down the hill, Jack And everybody laughed Don’t you pray? Don’t you pray?
To a Cocaine Jesus in a black four-seater Got a man, don’t need him, but you wait Call me when you want, or just call me when you need it If you only ever need it for the day High won’t hold, won’t hold, and I have no more Than all you left of me I have, I have, I have no more Than all you leave
High as hell, feeling fine, nothing bad but nothing kind Not a word from me, at least nothing you would mind In my head, in my head, I get lonely sometimes
Feeling fine, coming down, never back ’cause we’re never out You’ll never call the cops again, I’ll never call her mine In my head, in my head, I get lonely sometimes
When you find an old picture of us And you clear away the dust I hope you miss me sometimes When you see a frame that reminds you of me Would you remember the times Oh, the times that we believed
In a Cocaine Jesus in a black four-seater Got a man, don’t need him, but you wait Call me when you want, or just call me when you need it If you only ever need it for the day High won’t hold, won’t hold, and I have no more Than all you left of me I have, I have, I have no more Than all you leave
I’m nothing more than a page unwritten on the pavement, blowing in the wind You win a lot, and lose just a little bit more than you gained in the end But God, I wish that I, was better than I am But no luck, no love, no Gospel I could understand I’m nothing that ever wanted to lean on, yeah, but even then
When you find an old picture of us, and you clear away the dust I hope you miss me sometimes When you see a frame that reminds you of me Would you remember the times Oh, the times that we believed
In a Cocaine Jesus in a black four-seater Got a man, don’t need him, but you wait Call me when you want, or just call me when you need it If you only ever need it for the day, today
I’m just a page unwritten on the pavement You needed ’til you left But I’m more than a need or a thing you believe or a word That you leave unsaid
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
What follows is a video produced in 1961 by Sid Davis Productions. Baby Boomers will likely remember being fed a steady stream of black-and-white informational videos at school. Many Baby Boomers are homophobic, as were their parents and grandchildren. Imagine watching the following video. As an impressionable child, what opinion would you have of gay men? Boys, mentally ill homosexuals are out to either rape you or murder you in out-of-the-way places. These deviant men spent their days and nights trolling for young, impressionable boys, hoping to either sexually violate them or kill them. That’s the sick message of this video.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
Rarely do I have contact with anyone I knew from my campus Christian fellowship or Evangelical church. But when I do it is, to say the least, interesting.
In an earlier post, I talked about “Ivette” who, after many years, told me about something I’d long suspected: a deacon in the church raped her. Not long ago, someone else from that church, and the Christian fellowship, got in touch with me after reading something I’d written elsewhere.
“Marcus” was a kind of role model for me. Or so I wished. A few years older than I, he entered our college and Christian fellowship after serving in the Navy. He was following a family tradition, he explained. Also, being eligible for the draft, he calculated — correctly — that his enlistment and qualification for an in-demand specialty kept him from being tossed like an ember into the cauldron of Vietnam.
That wasn’t the reason I looked up to him, though. I never doubted his commitment to the Lord. He seemed to be an embodiment of something I hoped to be possible: a devotion to the intellect and the creative spirit that was entirely compatible with a love of Christ, and fellow humans.
We were in the same major, with specialties that overlapped, so we took a few classes together. Inside and outside of those classes, we debated whether John Milton’s “Paradise Lost” and Victor Hugo’s “Les Miserables” (before it was turned into a musical) were actually forms of Christian “witness.” (I have to admit that part of my admiration for “Marcus” was that he read “Les Miserables” in the original French without—as I did—reading a translation first.) Naturally, since he was a bit older and thus having had life experiences most of my peers lacked, those discussions were, I felt, more interesting than the usual college bull sessions.
Much later, it occurred to me that we were having such discussions out of earshot of other fellowship and church members. Likewise for our discussions about topics like gays and women’s rights (we were in the ’70s, after all!) and abortion. While I echoed the zealotry of my peers and the rigidity of fellow congregants, I think he knew that, deep down, I didn’t thoroughly agree with them.
By now, you might have guessed that he realized I was struggling to reconcile my own sexuality and gender identity with my faith. To my knowledge, he didn’t have a similar conflict but, I suspect, his experiences—including those in uniform — brought him into contact with a wider variety of people than most people in my college, at that time, would have known.
We graduated, went our ways, came back (I, for a short-lived stint in graduate school), and went our ways again. A couple of years after moving back to New York, I bumped into “Marcus” near St. Mark’s Place where — you guessed it — I’d gone to a poetry reading and had drinks with a couple of friends.
This was not long after Ronald Reagan brought himself to utter “AIDS” publicly. “Marcus” and his wife were helping its victims and the homeless (the term in use at the time) through a faith-based organization, I forget which. Anyway, he said that he had to get away from the “Comfort-ianity” of our old church and others he’d attended. Neither he nor his wife tried to bring me “into the fold” or questioned whether I was living a “godly lifestyle.” Instead, they told me to keep on reading — the Bible and anything else — and to “ask questions and pray.”
Had I continued to believe, that last phrase could have been my mantra. But now, as a non-believer, I believe that the first part — ask questions — is one of the essences of life itself. As I suspect, it was and is for “Marcus” and “Leilani.”
That, most likely, is what led to another event in their lives. In one of his last letters (remember those?) before our recent reunion, he mentioned a son who’d been born to them. He would’ve been a college student or, perhaps, a sailor (like his dad). Note that I said “would’ve”: He didn’t make it to one of those hallmarks of adulthood, or even his high school graduation. For that matter, he didn’t attend high school, or much of any school in the sense that most of us know it. Much like my cousin who passed away three years ago, he never learned to speak, walk without assistance, or do most of the things we do without thinking.
As you might expect, they — who were still believers — heard the usual Christian platitudes about God’s “will” and his unwillingness to “put you through anything he won’t help you through.” Few who haven’t been through the trials of raising someone with severe developmental disabilities can understand how condescending or simply insulting such declarations can sound even to someone who believes them. Not to mention that like “thoughts and prayers” for them (or victims of gun violence), they do nothing to help alleviate the suffering or offer strength to carry on.
But even that wasn’t enough to shake “Marcus’” or “Leilani’s” faith. Rather, it was a question “Marcus” tried to answer through his extensive reading of the Bible, as well as various theologians and apologists. His and his wife’s faith was premised on “accepting Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior” and gleaning the will of said Lord through prayer and Bible reading. Their son, of course, could do none of those things. So, they wondered, would he join them in the joyous afterlife that, they believed, was promised to them for their commitment and faith?
Perhaps I shouldn’t have been surprised to hear that one pastor, then another, and a scholar from the seminary “Marcus” attended for a time told him “No.” Their son, through no fault of his own, has no hope of eternal salvation — just like people who had the misfortune of being born in the “wrong” century or part of the world and thus missed out on the privilege of hearing the Word of God.
Oh, and if you don’t believe the “once saved, always saved” doctrine, “Marcus” and “LeilanI” are similarly doomed — for loving their child enough to abandon a belief in a God that condemns him for something he couldn’t control.
In a way, it’s ironic: Did Matthew ever consider that some people’s devotion to their faith is based on little or nothing more than the hope that they will accompany their loved ones in Heaven, or to whatever form of eternal bliss they hope to find after this life?
In any event, “Marcus” and “Leilani” did more than the God they once believed in for their son. If that isn’t reason enough for any parent to abandon their faith, I don’t know what is.
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
A regular reader sent the following to me last December. Yes, I am that far behind on my email. I am getting caught up. Thirty-five to go. Snopes says the following is a legend, first circulated as a joke in 1997. However, it is too good not to pass it on to the astute readers of this blog! This story is every bit as true as the Bible. 🙂
The following is an actual question given on a University of Arizona chemistry midterm, and an actual answer turned in by a student.
The answer by one student was so ‘profound’ that the professor shared it with colleagues, via the Internet, which is, of course, why we now have the pleasure of enjoying it as well:
Bonus Question: Is Hell exothermic (gives off heat) or endothermic (absorbs heat)?
Most of the students wrote proofs of their beliefs using Boyle’s Law (gas cools when it expands and heats when it is compressed) or some variant.
One student, however, wrote the following:
First, we need to know how the mass of Hell is changing in time. So we need to know the rate at which souls are moving into Hell and the rate at which they are leaving, which is unlikely. I think that we can safely assume that once a soul gets to Hell, it will not leave. Therefore, no souls are leaving. As for how many souls are entering Hell, let’s look at the different religions that exist in the world today.
Most of these religions state that if you are not a member of their religion, you will go to Hell. Since there is more than one of these religions and since people do not belong to more than one religion, we can project that all souls go to Hell. With birth and death rates as they are, we can expect the number of souls in Hell to increase exponentially. Now, we look at the rate of change of the volume in Hell because Boyle’s Law states that in order for the temperature and pressure in Hell to stay the same, the volume of Hell has to expand proportionately as souls are added.
This gives two possibilities:
If Hell is expanding at a slower rate than the rate at which souls enter Hell, then the temperature and pressure in Hell will increase until all Hell breaks loose.
If Hell is expanding at a rate faster than the increase of souls in Hell, then the temperature and pressure will drop until Hell freezes over.
So, which is it?
If we accept the postulate given to me by Teresa during my Freshman year that, ‘It will be a cold day in Hell before I sleep with you,’ and take into account the fact that I slept with her last night, then number two must be true, and thus I am sure that Hell is exothermic and has already frozen over.
The corollary of this theory is that since Hell has frozen over, it follows that it is not accepting any more souls and is therefore, extinct….. …leaving only Heaven, thereby proving the existence of a divine being which explains why, last night, Teresa kept shouting ‘Oh my God.’
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
This is the latest installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
Today’s Song of Sacrilege is The Wages of Sin by The Rainmakers.
I was praying last night when an angel broke the line She said “I’m gonna have to put you on hold for a time” I said “Hold like Hell, let me talk to the Boss” She said “Sorry sucker (sinner), it’s the Boss’s day off” And I realized then that the wages of sin Was two bucks an hour and working weekends
I was ignoring the thief who was lashed to the cross He cried “Help me get this son-of-a-bitch off” I said “I would if I could, I can’t so I won’t Well I wouldn’t want you messing your hair up, so don’t” And I realized then that the wages of sin Was all the lumber you can carry, all the nails you can bend
The wages of sin, the reward of fear Is worrying and fretting every second of the year If Heaven is guilt, no sex and no show Then I’m not sure if I really want to go, Oh
The wages of sin, the price that you pay Is worrying and fretting every second of the day The Church and the State, your God and Country kind One gets your body, the other gets your mind
Mary, Mary Magdalene, how ’bout a date? You’ve been wasting your time staying up so late Your boyfriend’s dead, the word is you’re a whore Just about then I heard a knock on the door And I realized then that the wages of sin Was a bad reputation and too many friends
The wages of sin (repeats)
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
This is the latest installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
Today’s Song of Sacrilege is If He Showed Up Now by Scott Cook.
If he showed up now, you wouldn’t know what to do He’d be flat broke as usual, filthy too And the worst thing about it when he comes to town Is the kind of people that he brings around But all of your life you have called him your friend And promised you’d stick by him right to the end So you’d say, do us the honour, have something to eat And he’d say, where were you when I was living on the street?
If he showed up now there’d be trouble, I bet He’d be talking revolution, or did you forget When you told him you’d follow him, he said, if you Were anything like me, they’d kill you too. You’d say, I’ve been calling you, haven’t you heard? I live by your name and I’d die for your word And I’d fight to defend it in every detail And he’d say, where were you when I was in jail?
If he showed up now, would you recognize him? If he came as a pauper when you expected a king Or as an illegal, scrounging for bills Or a defenceless child in the Syrian hills You’d say I’ve been fighting your cause all along I studied your pages and sang out your songs And it was in your name that I closed every prayer And he’d say, where were you when I was sick and couldn’t get care? You’d say, if I’d known it was you I’d have come I fought for your honour and all that I’ve done It was under your banner in the name of the Son And he’d say, where were you for the weakest ones? Where were you for the weakest ones?
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
This is the latest installment in the Songs of Sacrilege series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a song that is irreverent towards religion, makes fun of religion, pokes fun at sincerely held religious beliefs, or challenges the firmly held religious beliefs of others, please send me an email.
Today’s Song of Sacrilege isby White Wine in the Sun by Tim Minchin.
I really like Christmas It’s sentimental, I know But I just really like it
I am hardly religious I’d rather break bread with Dawkins Than Desmond Tutu, to be honest
And yes, I have all of the usual objections To consumerism To the commercialization of an ancient religion To the westernization of a dead Palestinian Press-ganged into selling PlayStations and beer But I still really like it
I’m looking forward to Christmas Though I’m not expecting A visit from Jesus
I’ll be seeing my dad My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun I’ll be seeing my dad My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun
I don’t go in for ancient wisdom I don’t believe just ’cause ideas are tenacious It means they’re worthy
I get freaked out by churches Some of the hymns that they sing have nice chords But the lyrics are dodgy
And yes, I have all of the usual objections To the miseducation Of children who, in tax-exempt institutions Are taught to externalize blame And to feel ashamed And to judge things as plain right and wrong But I quite like the songs
I’m not expecting big presents The old combination of socks, jocks and chocolates Is just fine by me
Cause I’ll be seeing my dad My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun I’ll be seeing my dad My brother and sisters, my gran and my mum They’ll be drinking white wine in the sun
And you, my baby girl My jetlagged infant daughter You’ll be handed round the room Like a puppy at a primary school And you won’t understand But you will learn someday That wherever you are and whatever you face These are the people who’ll make you feel safe In this world My sweet blue-eyed girl
And if my baby girl When you’re twenty-one or thirty-one And Christmas comes around And you find yourself nine thousand miles from home You’ll know what ever comes
Your brothers and sisters and me and your mum Will be waiting for you in the sun Whenever you come Your brothers and sisters, your aunts and your uncles Your grandparents, cousins and me and your mum We’ll be waiting for you in the sun Drinking white wine in the sun Darling, when Christmas comes We’ll be waiting for you in the sun Drinking white wine in the sun Waiting for you in the sun Waiting for you Waiting
I really like Christmas It’s sentimental, I know
Bruce Gerencser, 66, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 45 years. He and his wife have six grown children and thirteen grandchildren. Bruce pastored Evangelical churches for twenty-five years in Ohio, Texas, and Michigan. Bruce left the ministry in 2005, and in 2008 he left Christianity. Bruce is now a humanist and an atheist.
