the fact is that you're not an adult at all, you're just a tall child holding a beer
Прелестный текст о религии, ссылку на который выложил в твиттере Дейв МакЭлфатрик.
When I was twelve years old I went on a church retreat. I went because my friends were going. I expected nothing from it. There were a lot of activities planned for us. Scavenger hunts. Dodge ball. Between the games there were group lessons about the Bible. None of it really sunk in.
Then, on the last night, everything changed. As we sat in the assembly hall, the lights were dimmed. The band on stage quietly played, and the preacher stopped preaching and began praying with us. Tears in his eyes, he begged Jesus to come down from Heaven and save us. He cried out for all of the children in the audience to let Jesus into our hearts.
Suddenly I felt a surge of remorse. Everything I’d done wrong in my life flashed before me like a slide show. I fell to my knees and prayed. I knew Jesus was entering my heart and cleaning me. I felt Christ become one with me. It was an indescribable emotion that I'd never felt before. I had felt God's power.
I cried.
Many years later, I began reading about child psychology. I began to understand that the music, the lighting, and the emotion in the preacher’s voice broke me down on a very basic and fragile level, and I was ready to accept whatever he had said.
Then I realized that people with far stranger and far different beliefs than me had felt that same surge of revelation. Jesus had nothing to do with it. I experienced the same emotions that a Muslim fanatic must have felt, or an inductee of a terrible cult. I was manipulated on an emotional level that I did not fully understand at that age. I realized I was tricked.
And I cried again.
И еще более, на мой взгляд, прелестный комментарий к нему:
I've felt similar things in religious services.
But, to compare. When I was eighteen I went to see Pearl Jam live at Sandstone Amphitheater in Bonner Springs, KS. The place was jam packed. 18,000 or so people, cheering and screaming after the opening band finished. Night had fallen and the stars were out, I was near the very front, and when I turned I could see this writhing mass of humanity behind me. It was noisy, sweaty, and fun.
Then Eddie Vedder walked on stage. It was like the air sucked out of the place. A hush started by the stage and fired back to the lawn on back. The whole place went dead silent. My stomach tried to jump into my throat.
The opening chords of Release rang out, and the place exploded.
I felt as much of a religious moment there, as at any church service, and it's safe to say there was no spirituality involved.
When I was twelve years old I went on a church retreat. I went because my friends were going. I expected nothing from it. There were a lot of activities planned for us. Scavenger hunts. Dodge ball. Between the games there were group lessons about the Bible. None of it really sunk in.
Then, on the last night, everything changed. As we sat in the assembly hall, the lights were dimmed. The band on stage quietly played, and the preacher stopped preaching and began praying with us. Tears in his eyes, he begged Jesus to come down from Heaven and save us. He cried out for all of the children in the audience to let Jesus into our hearts.
Suddenly I felt a surge of remorse. Everything I’d done wrong in my life flashed before me like a slide show. I fell to my knees and prayed. I knew Jesus was entering my heart and cleaning me. I felt Christ become one with me. It was an indescribable emotion that I'd never felt before. I had felt God's power.
I cried.
Many years later, I began reading about child psychology. I began to understand that the music, the lighting, and the emotion in the preacher’s voice broke me down on a very basic and fragile level, and I was ready to accept whatever he had said.
Then I realized that people with far stranger and far different beliefs than me had felt that same surge of revelation. Jesus had nothing to do with it. I experienced the same emotions that a Muslim fanatic must have felt, or an inductee of a terrible cult. I was manipulated on an emotional level that I did not fully understand at that age. I realized I was tricked.
And I cried again.
И еще более, на мой взгляд, прелестный комментарий к нему:
I've felt similar things in religious services.
But, to compare. When I was eighteen I went to see Pearl Jam live at Sandstone Amphitheater in Bonner Springs, KS. The place was jam packed. 18,000 or so people, cheering and screaming after the opening band finished. Night had fallen and the stars were out, I was near the very front, and when I turned I could see this writhing mass of humanity behind me. It was noisy, sweaty, and fun.
Then Eddie Vedder walked on stage. It was like the air sucked out of the place. A hush started by the stage and fired back to the lawn on back. The whole place went dead silent. My stomach tried to jump into my throat.
The opening chords of Release rang out, and the place exploded.
I felt as much of a religious moment there, as at any church service, and it's safe to say there was no spirituality involved.