16. Tyler Deaton and the Cult of Christianity

The early days of college were, for me, the waning days of a once fervent belief in Christianity. Ardent and devoted as a high schooler, my religious faith was, by this point, in splinters from a relentless onslaught of negative experiences within the church, as well as the onslaught of logic, reason, and evidence presented to me at university.

Sophomore year, in one last ditch (but earnest) effort to try once and for all to “make it work” (Christianity is, after all, a very big deal in my family), I decided to join my university’s chapter of the Kappa Chi Men’s Christian fraternity. This was much to the chagrin of one of the other mainstream fraternities who had been hoping I would join them (one of their brothers called me “Jesus Boy” until he graduated).

In Christian terms, my stint in the fraternity proved to be unfruitful. You see, college for me was a time of opening up and experimenting. I was enjoying parties, drinking alcohol, smoking pot, all of the normal college “coming of age” activities that most Americans go through. Whether or not these things were good for my health, or really beneficial in any way, is beside the point. For me the issue was that despite the fact that I did these things, I didn’t become a bad person (which is what I had been taught in my Christian upbringing…that these things were bad and only bad people did them). In fact, quite the opposite happened. I became a better person. I was much less judgmental of others than I had been in high school, where I heaped scorn, ridicule, and shame on the “potheads”, “liberals”, “feminists” and a host of “Others.” So my hope was, despite the change in some aspects of my behavior (which the bible wasn’t all that clear on anyways), I had become a better person, and therefore, my relationship with Christianity might survive in tact.

After all, Jesus was a “partier” wasn’t he? Within Christianity there’s a big debate as to whether or not Jesus drank alcohol. His first miracle was the creation of some ultra-high class wine for a wedding. It’s clear to me that Jesus was a yogi, and therefore probably didn’t drink. I don’t either anymore. But the Pharisees accused him of it. More importantly, they were butt-hurt that he went to parties, and hung out with party people. But Jesus understood what I understood: that parties are where the cool people are. The interesting ones. The open-minded ones. For him, it was where he could find the ones who might actually listen to some of his ideas. For me, at my university, on the weekends you either partied or cloistered yourself in your room studying all night in hopes that you wouldn’t disappoint your Dad by not getting into medical school. So I went to parties. And I hoped, with my last tattered threads of a dying faith, that maybe, just maybe, I could find a group of Christians who cared about more than just superficial notions of “proper behavior.”

Alas, twas not to be. And, to the brothers of Kappa Chi, it didn’t really matter that Jesus made awesome wine. And it didn’t really matter what kind of person I was, or how much I loved people, or why I went to these parties. What mattered was that I didn’t follow their rules. And therefore, I was a bad person. Because good people follow rules, whether or not they are good people.

And so it was that, through a tedious, bureaucratic, and overdrawn process, I was excommunicated from the church of Kappa Chi (and hence, for me, from Christianity in general). By this point, of course, I had seen it coming for a long time, so the final, deftly hammered nail into the coffin of my religious faith wasn’t much of a shock. In the final Chapter Meeting where the proceedings took place, I was stoned. Not stoned like the adulterers and blasphemers of Jesus’ time, but stoned on marijuana. (I had serendipitiously run into some friends smoking in their car near the path where I took my afternoon jog). This only added to the surreal feeling of being somewhat-ceremoniously dumped from a group that I had barely wanted to join. It should be noted that membership of the fraternity dropped to 4 the next year (down from 20 or so the year I had joined, and from 35 or so the year before that). The next year the fraternity president, who had been a pledge brother and was still a friend, sheepishly asked if I might like to join again, to which I gave a hardy “Thanks but no thanks.”

An even more surreal moment came years later, after I had moved to Taiwan, when it came to light that one of the members who had “led the charge” against me had started an End-Times cult in suburban Kansas City, where (apparently, “allegedly”) he had been manipulating “recovering homosexuals” into sleeping with him, had gotten married, was having other members of the cult sleep with his wife (on account of being unable to get a hard-on, on account of being gay and what-not), and had conned one of his members into murdering his wife, making it look like a suicide, in order to cover up the systematic rape being committed by the cult members. And this was only the weird secret stuff. Outwardly they were living together preparing spiritually and militarily for the Second Coming of Jesus Christ, who would lead them in a battle against the Antichrist (who is apparently Oprah Winfrey….seriously…..you can’t make this stuff up).

And yet, I was the asshole because sometimes I smoked pot and drank Four Loko at parties in college.

What’s my point in all of this? Is it just to gloat? If I’m being honest, yes, it’s party to gloat. So let me go ahead and gloat for a second.

This is the sound of me gloating.

Did you enjoy that gloat?

I know I did.

My other reason I bring up this story is because, for me, it’s a very real, personal, and tragic experience of the difference between spirituality and religion. You see, I’m fundamentally a spiritual person, meaning that I am guided and motivated by inner sense of love and a desire for Truth. And because of this, religion and I have never gotten along. Ever. Sure, we’ve been able to sit in the same room from time to time, to “keep the peace”, but we’ve never enjoyed each others’ company.

You see, religion is pseudo-spirituality. It promises all of the things that spirituality offers (a never ending source of Truth, Love, and Happiness), but it never delivers. All that it ultimately delivers is dogma and superstition.

What is dogma? Dogma is believing something “just because”. “Because it’s what we’ve always believed.” “Because I want to believe it.” “Because [insert authority here] says so, that’s why!”. This is dogma.

What is superstition? Superstition is believing something, or doing something, or acting in some way because you are afraid of what will happen otherwise. “If we don’t bow to Mecca 5 times a day, Allah will be angry and we won’t get into paradise.” “If we don’t recite the prayers from the Tibetan Book of the Dead the soul will be lost after death and won’t achieve a higher rebirth.” These are all examples of superstition.

And so we can see how these forces are actively at work in Christianity, despite the constant insistence by Christians that it’s “not a religion, it’s a relationship!” Oh really? Because it sure sounds like a religion to me! And how do we know it’s a religion, not a relationship? Because ultimately when it comes down to any question, be it of theology or ethics or anything at all, really, the answer is always going to be “Because the Bible says so.” And if not the Bible, then it’s the Church. Or if it’s not the Church, it’s the Pastor. (You’ll also notice here that doing what Jesus actually says and does, I.e loving your neighbor, giving your things away to the poor, etc. doesn’t feature prominently in mainstream Christian culture).

And what about superstition? How does it factor in? Of course we all know the answer to this one, and the fact is that ultimately all the talk of love, and joy and peace is coupled with the fact that if you don’t choose the right religion (ahem, excuse me, “accept Jesus’ sacrifice”) you will spend an eternity in Hell after you die, which, depending on your flavor, is either an illustriously torturous place with demons and fire and pinecones-in-assholes, or for the more sober-minded Calvinists amongst us, is simply a cold, dark place away from God. “But you can avoid it if you join our religion!” Also, sorry if you happen to be born in the Middle East, or China, or any other place where Christianity isn’t a predominant force and your chances of becoming a Christian (or even hearing about it) are tremendously slim. “But God loves you and so do we! So please join our religion or else enjoy hell! Thanks!”

And of course, hell is a rather childish and simple psychological mechanism of control (that’s still tremendously effective). Other than hell, a more potent and common mechanism of superstition used with Christianity (and many other religions) is the idea that without the religion, life will be meaningless and full of torment and despair. This is the weapon wielded by Mormons (who don’t really believe in hell, per se). But for them it’s also coupled with the very real threat of complete social isolation from the community. This is particularly cruel, as this fear is a very real and deeply rooted fear within the psyche of all human beings, on account of us being social primates and what-not.

The point is, Christianity in all of its forms relies on the use of force, disguised as love. This is like me taking you on a date and saying “Sex with me is so great! It’s so wonderful! And guess what, if you don’t do it, I’ll hurt you!” Nowadays, this pattern of thinking and behavior is commonly known as rape.

Why do I say all this? Do I do this to ridicule what is already so apparently ridiculous (at least to those who have managed to escape its powerful psychological grasp)? Is it because it’s fun? Well, yes, partly. Although making fun of Christianity is a bit like challenging children to a foot-race. It’s fun and easy for a while, but eventually it gets boring and just makes you look like an asshole.

The real reason is to point out how dangerous and harmful fear is. Ultimately, fear is the opposite of love. Those are the two opposing forces of our lives, Fear and Love. In whatever places you have Fear in your heart, it’s impossible to have Love. Keep in mind here that when I say Fear, I’m not talking about “mindfulness” or “caution”. Of course one should mindful and cautious of a hot stove top, but to Fear the stove top means to never go into the kitchen, or to never cook a delicious meal. Fear is the anti-freedom, and Love is the ultimate freedom.

But it is this fear that is bound up in the heart of Christianity. It was this fear that created this end-times cult, that led a group of otherwise rational, intelligent, and fiercely passionate people (again, I knew a lot of these guys) to behave in such a ridiculous, and ultimately dangerous and violent way. Fear was the fly that poisoned the whole ointment.

Fear is at the heart of confinement. And anybody who has ever been locked up in a jail, prison, or psych ward can tell you, there is nothing more humilating, more denigrating, more inhuman than being confined. Religion is nothing more than psychological and intellectual confinement. And this, Mom and Dad, is why I will never go back, despite your ceaseless prodding. You can continue to prod, if it makes you feel better, but you should understand why, once and for all, I will always ignore you.

Lastly, I’d like to say that the ultimate point of all of this is to demonstrate that spirituality is a real force that operates in the world. Indeed, it’s at the heart of Love, or Love is in it’s heart. We in the West, since the ridiculous facade of our religion has come down, have assumed that because our religion was false that it must follow that there is no such thing as spirituality. It’s not surprising really. We’ve been dating a rapist for so long that we’ve forgotten that there is such a thing as making love, so we run from anything that has even a hint of that old relationship. But spirituality, or the power of Love, or as my guru calls it: “Tantra” or “the struggle for liberation” is at the heart of every good thing that has ever happened (yes, even in the many good aspects of Christianity, and there are many).

It was Love that saw me through that ridiculous ordeal. And if you look closely, you’ll see that it’s Love that’s leading you through yours too (at least, if you listen to Love instead of Fear).

And I’d also like to point that Spirituality is not some nebulous, new-age mumbo jumbo that I’m just throwing around. It has been my privilege in the last few years of my life to discover an actual science of spirituality. The fact that I’ve discovered this science (or did it discover me?), is to me, nothing more than further evidence of Divine Love and its grasp on all of us. It’s called Yoga, and it’s much more than just some fancy aerobics that bourgeious people in Austin do (and this is why labels are endlessly frustrating….it’s actually called “Tantric Yoga” so you can guess where everyone’s mind goes here….). The asanas (movements and poses) are just one of 8 limbs of the true spiritual practice of Yoga. I can assure you that if you sincerely follow this practice, this lifestyle of Yoga (which means “Divine Union”, by the way), you can discover true spirituality for yourself in a real way, and in a time when the world desperately needs it. But I’m not here to tout my new beliefs. If you really want to find it, go search (and watch for fake-ass liberal yoga “exercise”….you’ll know based on how much money they charge you…). I guarantee you’ll find it. And it will find you. Also feel free to just ask.

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