This is the one hundred eighty-ninth 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 Jesus Christ by Brand New.
[Verse 1]
Jesus Christ, that’s a pretty face
The kind you’d find on someone that could save
If they don’t put me away
Well, it’ll be a miracle
Do you believe you’re missing out?
That everything good is happening somewhere else
With nobody in your bed
The night is hard to get through
[Chorus 1]
And I will die all alone
And when I arrive I won’t know anyone
[Verse 2]
Jesus Christ, I’m alone again
So what did you do those three days you were dead?
Because this problem is gonna last
More than the weekend
Jesus Christ, I’m not scared to die
But I’m a little bit scared of what comes after
Do I get the gold chariot
Do I float through the ceiling
[Chorus 2]
Or do I divide and pull apart
Cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark
This ship went down in sight of land
And at the gates does Thomas ask to see my hands?
[Bridge]
I know you’re coming in the night like a thief
But I’ve had some time, O Lord, to hone my lying technique
I know you think that I’m someone you can trust
But I’m scared I’ll get scared and I swear I’ll try to nail you back up
So do you think that we could work out a sign
So I’ll know it’s you and that it’s over so I won’t even try
I know you’re coming for the people like me
But we all got wood and nails
And we turn out hate in factories
We all got wood and nails
And we turn out hate in factories
We all got wood and nails
And we sleep inside of this machine
There is power in the name of Jesus. Or so Evangelicals believe, anyway. I have spoken the name of Jesus tens of thousands of times, both as a Christian and an atheist, yet I have found Jesus’ name to be impotent and powerless. As a Christian, I ended every prayer with in Jesus’ name, amen. I invoked the name of Jesus countless times in my sermons, in my writing, and in my day-to-day conversations. Yet, despite my devotion to Christian faith and practice, I found Jesus’ name to be every bit as powerless as the names Tom, Dick, and Harry. As an atheist, I have written and spoken the name of Jesus thousands of times, often in blasphemous ways. Yet, the name of Jesus remains powerless. Surely, my irreverence and blasphemy are an affront to Jesus, yet he does nothing. Wouldn’t it be a great way to make a point to other blasphemers if Jesus struck dead the infamous Evangelical-preacher-turned-atheist Bruce Gerencser? Well you just wait, Bruce, your payday is coming, Evangelicals say. In an hour that you think not, Jesus — the giver and taker of life — is going to call your number and cast you into the Lake of Fire. Then you will know the power that is in the name of Jesus.
What Evangelicals fail to see is that the real power is not found in Jesus’ name, but in the myths that are built around his name — starting with the myths found in the New Testament, right down to the fanciful stories of today, told by preachers Sunday after Sunday. All the promises and all the judgments Christians hang their hats on come into play after death. Evangelicals can call fire and brimstone down upon my head, but when it doesn’t happen the retort is, just you wait. There is coming a day when you will stand before the judgment bar of God and then you will prostrate yourself before Jesus in fear. For believers, everything is offloaded to eternity. That’s where the action is; that’s where Jesus will reveal himself; that’s where God will pay off all the betting slips. Of course, believing such things requires faith. Evangelicals revel in the midst of their faith: Jesus saves, Jesus delivers, Jesus heals, Jesus, Jesus, Jesus. The mere mention of his name in the alternate universe called Christianity works wonders to behold. But in the here and now, the powerful Jesus is no different from Elmer Gantry. You see, reason, skepticism, and intellectual inquiry demand evidence for the claim that there is “power in the name of Jesus.” And until such evidence is provided, I shall not believe. Jesus — the one Evangelicals say is a divine flesh-and blood miracle worker — has had ample opportunity to draw me unto himself, yet my ears do not hear and my eyes do not see what Christians say is true. Instead, I see and hear centuries of myths that have turned a dead Jewish apocalyptic preacher into a hybrid God-man who one day will return to earth on a white horse and judge the living and the dead, casting into a lake that burns with fire and brimstone all those who refused to believe the myths.
Certainly, myths play a role in the ebb and flow of human life. I don’t discount for a moment the fact that countless people find hope, purpose, and meaning in Christianity; and for these people the name of Jesus carries great power, much like the deities of other religions. If Jesus is what you need to get you through the night and into the morning light, then by all means speak his name. But don’t expect unbelievers to buy into the notion that there is power in the name of Jesus. Just saying something doesn’t make it so, and just because Evangelicals say that Jesus is this or that doesn’t mean what they say is true. Purportedly, Jesus exited stage right two thousand years ago and he has not been seen or heard from since. Christians believe that he miraculously ascended into Heaven, and will someday split the eastern sky as he returns to earth. Someday, always someday. Never today, never tomorrow, never a year from now, but someday — or so Christians say. Unbelievers are expected to bow in fealty to the Lord of Lords and King of Kings — the man, the myth, the legend, Jesus Christ — even though no one has seen him, heard him speak, or received an email from him in more than twenty centuries. Instead of clinging to the “official” story —where are Mulder and Scully when you need them? — perhaps Evangelicals need to admit that it is unlikely what they believe is true; that there’s no real power in the name of Jesus.
About Bruce Gerencser
Bruce Gerencser, 61, lives in rural Northwest Ohio with his wife of 40 years. He and his wife have six grown children and twelve 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. For more information about Bruce, please read the About page.
Bruce is a local photography business owner, operating Defiance County Photo out of his home. If you live in Northwest Ohio and would like to hire Bruce, please email him.
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Kirsten Ryken, a writer for the Fundamentalist website The Gospel Coalition, recently wrote a post titled, Why I Thank God for Chronic Pain. Ryken’s article was part personal story and part justification for God allowing her to painfully suffer. Ryken concluded her post with this:
With the eye of faith, I saw Christ on the cross. God, in a human body, taking on physical pain far greater than my own. Thorns in his head, blood dripping down his face, nails in his hands and feet, love in his face. I felt his pain in my own body, the fire in my spine intensifying as I looked at him. But I also felt him holding me like a child.
I knew in my heart in that moment that nothing can separate me from the love of God in Christ Jesus (Rom. 8:39). I was completely overwhelmed with the knowledge that my God not only knows what’s wrong with my body even when no human doctor does, he also knows my physical pain more intimately than anyone else ever could. The loneliness of suffering and the frustration of not having answers were taken away in an instant. I felt a physical burden lifted from my body and my heart.
Until that moment, I had never understood the relevance of Christ’s death on the cross to the details of my daily life, my pains and my joys. It was only in the light of the cross that I could make sense of my own suffering. This reminder is the positive result of my pain. In moments when I feel overwhelmed, I remember Calvary. I thank God for the precious gift of my salvation, because on some (very small!) level I have begun to understand the cost of my salvation.
Chronic pain is a constant reminder that my life is not my own; it has been bought with a price.
The narrative Ryken spins is one often heard when Evangelicals try to explain pain and suffering: my suffering is next to nothing compared to the pain and agony Jesus suffered on the cross. In the minds of Christians such as Ryken, there’s no human suffering that can be compared to what Jesus faced on Calvary. This worn-out, tiresome trope gets repeated over and again by Evangelicals who never THINK about what they are actually saying. Jesus is the bad-ass suffering servant, Evangelicals would have us believe; but in fact Jesus’ suffering was minuscule compared to what countless people face every day.
Yes, Jesus was beaten and his beard was plucked from face. Yes, he was nailed to a Roman cross and suffered great indignity (that is assuming the gospel narratives are true). But how long did Jesus actually suffer? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Nope. How about less than a day? Then he died, descended to hell and hung out with its inhabitants, and then he resurrected from the dead good as new save the nail prints in his hands and feet. Pray tell, based on what the inspired, inerrant, infallible Word of God says about Jesus’ suffering, how was his pain in any way worse than that which any human has ever experienced? By all means, compare Christ’s suffering to what children face when having radiation and chemotherapy treatments to eradicate cancer from their bodies. Go ahead, compare his suffering to that of people in burn units with third degree burns over most their bodies. Jesus may have faced intense levels of pain for a short amount of time, but how does his suffering compare to the pain of people who suffer with debilitating, chronic illnesses for years?
Jesus knew that his time of suffering would be short and sweet, and then he would die. Imagine a body wracked with pain day in and day out, years on end, with no relief in sight. I suspect such people might be willing to suffer what Jesus did if they knew afterward their bodies would be free from pain. I know I would. I would trade places in a heartbeat with the “suffering” Son of God if it meant come Sunday morning my body was no longer wracked with pain. And I suspect I am not alone in my blasphemy.
I don’t think for a moment that my short post will change Christian thinking on this subject. Ryken desperately needs a suffering Jesus to make sense of her own pain. Without Jesus, she is left with what? Shit happens? And to that I say “yes.” None of us is guaranteed a pain-free life. Genetics, environmental factors, personal choices, and yet-unknown factors go into what diseases we contract and what pain we suffer. The late Christopher Hitchens was right when he said in his book Mortality, ” . . . To the dumb question ‘Why me?’ the cosmos barely bothers to return the reply: Why not? . . .” Why me, indeed.
Christians invoke the suffering Jesus because it covers up the fact they suffer just like the unwashed, uncircumcised Philistines of the world, and that their God, much like the cosmos, yawns with indifference. Jesus, then, becomes the hospice nurse who holds their hands as they face cruelties, indignities, and sufferings beyond imagination. Jesus has promised Christians that he will never leave or forsake them, and he will never allow them to suffer more than they are able. Thus, whatever pain and suffering comes their way, God means it for their good, either to chastise them or teach them a lesson. If Christians will but endure what comes their way, words in an ancient religious text promise that they will be given pain-free bodies after death. Better to think this, many Evangelicals say, than to believe we live in a cold, heartless universe. Why, such a belief leads to despair! Christians say. To that, I reply, maybe for you it does, but it doesn’t have to.
I find comfort in the fact that shit happens, and chronic illness and intractable pain afflict rich and poor, young and old, religious or not. I know that I am not special, and that countless other people are going through pain and suffering as bad as mine and worse. I am not owed a pain-free existence. I have been given life — just one — and it is incumbent upon me to live life to its fullest. I embrace my suffering, not looking to a mythical deity for inspiration or help. I find comfort in the fact that my wife, children, and friends deeply care about me and do what they can to lessen my pain. And I try to do the same when dealing with others who are facing troubles and trials, physical or not. Is there any more any of us can do for each other? A kind word, a thoughtful action, a tender embrace, these are enough. It is humanism, with its goal of lessening suffering, that shines the brightest. Christianity says endure, promising a divine payoff in the sweet by-and-by. Humanism says we only have one life, let’s do all we can to lessen pain and suffering. Christianity says pain and suffering have a higher purpose, be it correction or testing. Humanism says alleviating pain allows people to live happy lives, and in this cold universe of ours, that’s the best any of us can expect. Despite my pain, or perhaps because of it, I choose Humanism.
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.
The Holy Spirit is inspiring Paul to polemicize this idolatrous practice by making something abundantly clear: Christ is the Creator and Lord of the angels. They exist for Him. He is by right of being the Creator more worthy of worship. It is Christ who created the archangel Michael, it is Christ who created Satan. They exist to glorify Him. Paul ends this section by making it clear, no matter how high and wonderful any created thing might be it only exists to serve the Son. Thus all thing made by Him are made for His pleasure.
….
We are not the center of our own lives, that position belongs to Christ. If mighty angels exist at the whim of Christ to serve him and bring him glory what do you think of your life? Are you more holy, beautiful, or powerful than the angels? Are you of a purer heart? If they are able to stand before God what is your life? We are not even worthy to see God because of our sin! Do we think we exist for any greater purpose? Every other purpose we make for ourselves fail in comparison to bringing Christ praise.
Do not have lofty thoughts of yourself, you exist to glorify Christ and for nothing else. You will inevitably glorify Christ. You will either bring Him glory by displaying His grace poured out on repentant sinners or you make know the glory of His righteous wrath poured out on the wicked in the eternal fires of hell.
— Robert Nelsen, Reformation Charlotte, You Exist to Glorify Christ, July 20, 2018
This is the one hundred and eighty-second installment in The Sounds of Fundamentalism series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a video clip that shows the crazy, cantankerous, or contradictory side of Evangelical Christianity, please send me an email with the name or link to the video. Please do not leave suggestions in the comment section. Let’s have some fun!
Today’s Sound of Fundamentalism features a video clip of atheist-turned-Evangelical Howard Storm talking about an out-of-body experience that took him to hell. Storm spins a fantastical story, yet he thinks atheists are the ignorant ones? Storm says if atheists will just ask Jesus if he is real and sincerely ask him to come into their lives, he will indeed show us that he is real and come into our lives. Go for it! atheist friends.
This is the one hundred and eighty-first installment in The Sounds of Fundamentalism series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a video clip that shows the crazy, cantankerous, or contradictory side of Evangelical Christianity, please send me an email with the name or link to the video. Please do not leave suggestions in the comment section. Let’s have some fun!
Today’s Sound of Fundamentalism features a video clip from a Christian man who says he died, his soul went to hell, Satan laughed at him, and then, drum roll please, Jesus swooped down and saved him. The man in the video says several times that he knows people won’t believe him, but what happened is true! His proof? Cuz he says so.
This is the one hundred eighty-fourth 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 What if God Was One of Us? by Joan Osborne.
If God had a name what would it be?
And would you call it to his face?
If you were faced with Him in all His glory
What would you ask if you had just one question?
And yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah, God is good
And yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Tryin’ to make his way home?
If God had a face what would it look like?
And would you want to see if, seeing meant
That you would have to believe in things like heaven
And in Jesus and the saints, and all the prophets?
And yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah, God is good
And yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Tryin’ to make his way home?
Just tryin’ to make his way home
Like back up to heaven all alone
Nobody callin’ on the phone
‘Cept for the Pope maybe in Rome
And yeah, yeah, God is great
Yeah, yeah, God is good
And yeah, yeah, yeah-yeah-yeah
What if God was one of us?
Just a slob like one of us
Just a stranger on the bus
Tryin’ to make his way home?
Just tryin’ to make his way home
Like a holy rolling stone
Back up to heaven all alone
Just tryin’ to make his way home
Nobody callin’ on the phone
‘Cept for the Pope maybe in Rome
This is the one hundred and eightieth installment in The Sounds of Fundamentalism series. This is a series that I would like readers to help me with. If you know of a video clip that shows the crazy, cantankerous, or contradictory side of Evangelical Christianity, please send me an email with the name or link to the video. Please do not leave suggestions in the comment section. Let’s have some fun!
Today’s Sound of Fundamentalism features a video clip from the Catholic program Take 2 with Jerry & Debbie. A woman by the name of Mary called in to tell a story about giving a hospitalized woman a communion wafer. The woman ate the wafer and immediately puked it up. The sick woman evidently received spoiled meat — remember the wafer is literally the flesh of Jesus. What did Mary do? She gathered up the puke-covered Jesus and put him in a bag. Faced with an existential crisis of leaving Jesus in a plastic bag, Mary decided to the eat the puke-covered Lord of Lords and King of Kings.
Lesson of the day? Sincere religious beliefs will make some people do bat-shit crazy stuff.
This is the one hundred eighty-third 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 Craig by Stephen Lynch.
Everyone knows Jesus,
The man who healed the lame,
But I am Jesus’ brother:
Craig is my name.
Jesus is the Prince of Peace,
Jesus is the Lamb,
Jesus is the Son of God,
But Craig don’t give a damn.
Because when Craig’s in sight,
We’ll party all damn night!
I don’t turn water into wine,
But into cold Coors Light!
I’m not my brother, I know,
Don’t walk on H2O,
But I got hydroponic shit that me and Judas grow!
I hang out with lepers,
Barabas and Salome.
Jesus’ friends are called Apostles;
Those dudes are totally gay.
Jesus performs miracles
From Galilee to Rome,
But it would be a miracle
If he brought a fuckin’ lady home.
Because while Jesus is prayin’,
Fuckin’ Craig is layin’
Every lady in the Testament,
You know what I’m sayin’?
I won’t die for your sin
Like my famous kin,
But if you’ve got a little sister,
Then there’s room at this inn!
Jesus was our mother’s fave.
All her love to him she gave.
But there’s no sibling rivalry
When he’s nailed to that tree! Yeeeeeaaaaaaahhhhhhh!
And now the question for you,
Is not “What Would Jesus Do?”,
But where will you be
When the Craig Machine comes partyin’ through?
And if the Lord will allow,
You’ve got to ask yourself how,
And who and why and when and where is your messiah now?
This is the one hundred seventy-sixth 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.
Is there a man in heaven looking out for you?
Is there a place dead loved ones go?
Is there a source of wisdom that will see you through?
Will there be peace in our time?
No
We knew Karmu, a faith healer—the black Christ, he said—
Laying his hands on high and low
Did he cure colds and cancer, and bring back the dead?
Did he refuse donations?
No
My friend Scott says there’s flying saucers
Hiding inside our hollow moon (Our hollow moon)
And then there’s Karl, card-carrying communist
Cause revolution’s coming “soon” (It’s coming soon)
And Carolyn believes in fairies
And Gabrielle believes in ghosts
Yeshe believes in reincarnation (We’ll meet again)
And David, in heavenly hosts (Heavenly hosts)
My mother believes that this physical universe
Is a big holographic show
And she says someday science’ll catch up with her
Has she a shred of evidence?
No
There is power in the name of Jesus. Or so Evangelicals believe, anyway. I have spoken the name of Jesus tens of thousands of times, both as a Christian and an atheist, yet I have found Jesus’ name to be impotent and powerless. As a Christian, I ended every prayer with in Jesus’ name, amen. I invoked the name of Jesus countless times in my sermons, in my writing, and in my day-to-day conversations. Yet, despite my devotion to Christian faith and practice, I found Jesus’ name to be every bit as powerless as the names Tom, Dick, and Harry. As an atheist, I have written and spoken the name of Jesus thousands of times, often in blasphemous ways. Yet, the name of Jesus remains powerless. Surely, my irreverence and blasphemy are an affront to Jesus, yet he does nothing. Wouldn’t it be a great way to make a point to other blasphemers if Jesus struck dead the infamous Evangelical-preacher-turned-atheist Bruce Gerencser? Well you just wait, Bruce, your payday is coming, Evangelicals say. In an hour that you think not, Jesus — the giver and taker of life — is going to call your number and cast you into the Lake of Fire. Then you will know the power that is in the name of Jesus.
